


well i'm not the moon

by nantoast



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crying, First Kiss, Forehead Kisses, Galaxy Garrison, Honest Shiro, M/M, Post-Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, angry keith, keith is a good student 2k17, learning self control and love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nantoast/pseuds/nantoast
Summary: Keith decides in that moment that every struggle he’d gone through in his life, from lack of parental care to bullying to living in a goddamn orphanage for the better part of ten years has been worth it, is worth it because he’s continuing his dream and getting all he’d ever wanted after so fucking long.Keith's life starts (and ends) at the Galaxy Garrison.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> hello !!! 
> 
> thank you so much for deciding to read this, I hope you like it!! I've been thinking a lot about Keith in the Garrison and it makes me sad how some garrison fics make him look like a bad student. this was born from my overwhelming need to stand up for my sons character lol. also, Shiro might seem a bit different here? I imagine him being very laid back and hating to offend someone but quick to action in his garrison days, so that'll be portrayed in this fix. enjoy !

He finds his salvation is a crisp envelope, holding a piece of paper folded three times.

His heart skips beats as he rereads the letter for the fifth, tenth, twentieth time, fingers slowly tightening to crumple the paper slightly. He lets out a small sob because for once in his fifteen years of existence he, Keith Kogane, is going to be more than the resident temperamental orphan. For once in his life, he sees the gateway that leads him away from the crowded orphanage, away from the small-minded people, and into his own as a pilot for the Galaxy Garrison.

When Keith lets out the breath he’d been holding, he feels lighter than he ever has.

xxx

It takes one train and three city buses to get him to the bus designated for the Garrison. Though he’s as excited as every kid sitting around him, the nervous pang in his stomach forces him to silence, staring out his window numbly as scenery flies past is unseeing eyes.

He had hated attending school for years prior to learning of the Garrison. His childhood fascination with stars and the solar system grew into a passion that filled his being with wonder at the idea of _anything_ being out there. His love manifested itself into a goal to qualify for scholarships so he could attend the school, sure that he wouldn’t have the money to pay for it otherwise in his wildest dreams. His hard work had payed off in the end, landing him a full ride to the start of his future.

After a long bus ride surrounded by talkative young teens, the shuttles occupants filed out to start the lengthy registration process, pre-filled out paperwork that had been mailed to them weeks prior and suitcases grasped in their hands. Keith’s mind was absent as went station-to-station, answering questions every now and then. Before he knew it, he was given two sets of keys: one for his dorm and one for the communal showers located at the end of the hall. An officer gathered the new cadets that had finished registration and led them to the first year wing, unleashing them to match the number on their ID with the numbers printed on the doors.

Keith made it to his dorm before his roommate did, taking his time to unpack his few belongings – all fitting into his forest green backpack he had previously used for school. He wandered around the room, fingers grazing the walls and furniture. It looked like each side was mirrored, a bed, desk, and dresser pushed to one side and a matching set pushed to the other. He walked up to his dresser, running his hand over before grabbing the black handle of a drawer. He opened the top drawer and looked inside, seeing several copies of the garrison uniform jacket, and a quick glance revealed white tee shirts and the uniform pants in the remaining two drawers. A note taped to the top of the short dresser said that uniforms were to be worn starting tomorrow and would be enforced during classes and meals.

Keith glanced at the digital clock placed on his roommate’s desk, matching the one on his, before crossing back to his bed. He hesitantly pulled his dagger from the bottom of his bag, eyeing it as he gently lifted the hem of his pillowcase, slipping it between the pillow and white fabric. His hand lingered on the hilt before slipping away, turning to explore the building.

xxx

Class work was draining for Keith, though he would study for hours if it meant he got ten minutes in the flight simulator.

He found relaxation in the control panels and levers, so much that the annoying chatter of his test crew weren’t enough to pull one of his infamous mood swings out of him. Actually, now that he thought about it, his anger fits have been few and far between since he’d gotten his acceptance letter from the Garrison. It makes him smile softly, cracking a soft joke to himself about how they should’ve just shipped him off sooner instead of making him sit through hours of anger control sessions and therapy.

Despite his love for the simulator, he knows that the teachers constant groaning about how talent for flight means nothing if you don’t pass your classes. He spends all his time in his room or in the library on the rare occasion that his roommate occupies the small space that still manages to be much larger than his old room at the orphanage. His desk is stacked with books and papers, chaotically sorted with unfinished assignments on the right and ones he’d yet to start on the right. Professors don’t often hand out graded papers, though the ones he does receive go into a folder he keeps in the drawer of his desk, littered with red A’s and B’s.

He gets stares from the other cadets often, a few even asking him how he was so gifted with flying and class work despite looking like a member of a child gang. He never knows how to answer them, unsure if it’s a genuine question or insult, so he always shrugs and turns away, even if his destination is past them.

When he thinks about it, Keith comes to the conclusion that he’s a talented flyer and dedicated student _because_ he looks like a gang member. Years of being passed up during adoptions due to looking too rowdy and having too much of a temper made Keith’s ambition to prove them wrong only grow, and the last ten years spent in a cramped orphanage with rude kids dulls in comparison at the chances he has right before his eyes.

xxx

He meets Takashi Shirogane a few months into his first year, but knows of him long before that.

Mr. Shirogane is the eighteen-year-old genius pilot that floated his way to the top much quicker than anyone before him ever did. He’s the shining example of what every cadet should strive to be, as well as proof that hard work does pay off. He’s the picture of poise, all polite smiles and soft-spoken demands and questions. He watches over some of the first year cadet’s classes, though it’s said that he frequents the other years more often.

In all honesty, his constant presence around the Garrison only continues to put Keith on edge. He can feel the gazes lingering on his back from the observation deck after successful simulator sessions, quick glances up confirming that a few upper level Garrison officials stand there, Shirogane among them, watching as he walks to the back of the group to wait out the remainder of the class hour alone.

Which is what he is when he meets Shirogane, alone. It’s mandatory for first and second year cadets to eat meals in the Union, but there are not enough tables for all of them and Keith has long since grown uncomfortable with sitting at a table with complete strangers, especially when they start asking him odd questions, like about his family and ‘preference’, what ever that means. 

That’s why he started hiding out in his room during the hour given to cadets for each meal, always arriving to the Union first and grabbing whatever he can quickly fit in his bag without being seen and slipping out during the mad rush of cadets filling the area. Though an official or one of the guards around the Garrison has never stopped him, he has a lie formulated anyways. His planning comes in handy when everyone’s favorite poster boy stops him, and he curses himself for getting sloppy in his retreat. After weeks of getting away with it, he must have assumed that focus wasn’t really on him.

Shirogane’s hand is planted firmly on his shoulder, and Keith has to fight against the instinct to brush it off dismissively. He paused mid step, using the momentum that was going to go into in to turn himself around slowly to regard Shirogane with a blank stare. 

“Mr. Shirogane,” he says, hoping that respect is enough to get him out of this situation.

Shirogane’s brow twitches slightly, lips pulled into a faint frown as he looks at the cadet in front of him. Keith knows that he’s shorter than the average at the Garrison, but it still takes all his willpower to not huff as Shirogane tips his head down further to be able to meet Keith’s eyes, the aching in his neck at keeping his head angled up to match his gaze letting itself be known.

“Cadet,” he starts slowly, as if unsure how to proceed, “Where are you going?”

Keith lifts his opposite shoulder slightly, enough to catch the taller man’s attention and bring it to the strap of his backpack. “I was going to drop my bag off at my dorm before I went to lunch. I forget to go right after class dismissal sometimes, so I often lag behind everyone else on my way to the Union.” 

Throughout his lie, Shirogane has lifted on of his brows in disbelief as he stares down at Keith. “By ‘sometimes’ do you mean everyday? I walk past you on my way to the Union everyday but I never see you come back in.” 

Keith’s jaw tightens as the familiar curl of annoyance drifts through his body. He bites his tongue before he can snap back, standing in silence. 

“I also never see you during breakfast, and during dinner you duck in then duck out so fast I only catch a glimpse,” he pauses, staring at the guarded expression Keith has on his face. “I promise I’m not purposely watching you, I’m just in charge of monitoring the new cadets meal times.” He gives a soft laugh before dropping his hand from Keith’s shoulder. “So, where are you going? We can pretend that your previous answer wasn’t said if you tell me the truth this time.” 

The flicker of annoyance sparks into a low thrum of anger, and Shirogane has to be stupid to think that Keith doesn’t recognize that tone, the kind you use with an unruly child to coax them into giving you what you want. He doesn’t want to answer, he wants to turn his back and sprint down the hall, so talk to him with that same condescending voice that always threw Keith into a rage far faster than the taunts of his classmates growing up.

He doesn’t, though. Keith knows that his scholarship was granted to him on the agreement to keep up his grades, prove to be an asset for the Garrison, and to stay out of trouble. Keith knows enough of Shirogane’s rank that yelling at him in the middle of the hall after being caught breaking a rule – despite it being a small, unimportant one – would not end well for him.

So he straightens his back and looks Shirogane in the eyes. “I’m going to my room, sir,” he says, voice cold though still grasping at the undertone of respect.

“Why?”

The agitation is building and Keith can feel his ears growing red. “I study during meals.”

Shirogane cocks another eyebrow, pursing his lips. “That must be lonely, why don’t you eat with your friends?” Keith gives him a flat stare and he dips his head in understanding. “Ah, okay. Well, have fun,” he says, turning quickly on his heel to head towards the Union. Keith sputters, anger extinguishing faster than it ever has as he stands there baffled.

“Am I… not in trouble?” he asks hesitantly. Shirogane brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

“I can’t very well tell you to _stop_ studying and to go to lunch, and you seem like the type to just get sneakier about it if I do. The only one you can possibly hurt by doing this is yourself, and you seem fine enough.” He stops at the end of the hall, right before the Union’s doors, to regard Keith with a smile. “Just promise you’ll try harder to make friends.”

Before Keith can offer a retort, the Union doors open and close and Shirogane is gone and he’s free to travel back to his room, though he walks in a bit of a haze as he thinks over his conversation with the Garrison’s golden boy.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agh thank you to everyone who has checked this out!! 
> 
> tbh when I made a post on tumblr about writing this instead of my NHS essay I never thought I'd post it but I got so many nice replies about it that it gave me the confidence to put myself out there as a writer again after nearly a year haha.
> 
> I hc/write Keith as being a really temperamental child who learned how to control it over time and Shiro as really honest, so keep that in mind while reading this!

Keith sees a lot more of Shirogane after that.

He finds himself immediately glancing towards the observation deck when he enters the flight simulator with his class now, catching his eye every now and then. Shirogane seems amused about catching Keith staring and offers small grins, only to be ignored for the rest of the class as Keith keeps a permanent frown. His only time not spent with a layer of agitation draped over him is when he melts into the pilot’s seat, letting instinct take over to guide him through simulations like he’s been doing them for years. He gets congratulations from fellow cadets and his professor, only dipping his head in thanks before returning to his spot in the back of the group to ignore the jealous looks thrown at him from some cadets.

Sneaking away during meals pays off as his tests and class work starts holding less red B’s and more A’s, to the point where one of his professors praises him on his way out of class one day. His face glows red at the praise and he thanks her, scurrying out and heading to his room as he listens to her chuckle at him.  

When Keith wakes the three days after that event, three months after joining the Garrison, the thrum of anger in his chest alerts him that today is not going to be a good day.

He goes throughout the morning like that, taking extra time in the shower in hopes that the lukewarm water would wash away the unwanted feelings like it did sweat. All of his morning classes are lectures that day and he pushes himself to stay attentive and take notes even though the whistling sound of his neighbor breathing makes his blood boil.

He skips lunch that day, heading straight to his room and not acknowledging Shirogane’s brief attempt at conversation in the hall, ripping open his door and tossing his bag on the ground. He plants himself face first into his pillow, letting out a long groan before growing silent. He hears his roommate open the door and pause, processing the situation before dropping off his bag and leaving quickly, thankfully not attempting conversation.

Keith’s hand slips into his pillowcase, pulling his dagger out and turning it over in his hands, his fingers tracing the hilt before rolling over to stare at it. He lets it drop to his chest and sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. He remains like that for the rest of the hour, switching between feeling boneless and tired one minute to uncontrollable rage that leads him to punching his mattress and letting out small, outraged growls.

He pulls himself together enough to glance at the clock, gathering his stuff as he prepares for the lunch hour to be over. He books it the second the Union doors release students, weaving between taller cadets. He’s the first to make it to his class, the one with the praising professor, and only makes it a step through the door before his eyes catch Shirogane, standing next to the professor’s desk and making idle conversation. The professor turns towards him, smiling.

“Hello, Keith. You’re early today.”

He stares in response before his senses catch up to him, dipping as he walks his way to his seat in the lecture hall, walking midway up the rows before stopping at his seat in the middle, where he made a habit of sitting everyday as it offers to best view of his teacher and what they’re doing. He situates himself as students pile in, leaving the seats on either side of his empty since it’s a relatively small class. He can feel Shirogane’s eyes on him, but the ever-present anger that attaches to him like a second skin forces that out of his mind.

The professor walks up the aisles of desks, handing stacks of paper to the closest cadet on the ends. “Today we’ll have Takashi Shirogane watching the class while you complete a pop quiz over recent lectures. The quiz will contain multiple choice and short answer style open response. You’ll have thirty minutes to complete them, and I’ll have them graded and ready before class time is over. You may start when your copy gets to you.”

Keith leans to take the outstretched copy of the quiz, leaning once again to pass the rest of the copies to his classmate on the other side of him as he reads over the questions. He can’t get his eyes to focus though, and the anger built up in him is enough of a distraction that it doesn’t even matter. He tries to recall the notes he’d taken the last few days, though his brain fizzles and comes up empty. Keith bites his lip and makes educated guesses on the multiple choice, and his open response answers make him cringe. He’s one of the last to finish, looking at the ground as he approaches his professor’s desk to deposit his quiz in the basket. He sits in mortified silence, trying to remember the last time he had done so poorly on anything for school. It had to have been the first few years in the orphanage, when he was so full of rage and was more focused on fighting than his future. 

Twenty minutes after he finishes, his professor starts handing out the graded tests, placing each one face down as she always does. She sets his down gingerly and quickly walks past him, not present when he slowly flips it over and sucks in a breath. His quiz is littered in red marks and comments, the most notable one reading ‘visit after class’, which happens to be under the bright red F at the top of the page. When she finishes passing out quizzes, she stands in front of the class and announces the next topic they’ll be covering and that Shirogane will start frequenting the class more often. The class is dismissed minutes later, and Keith takes his time putting up his pencils before walking down the aisles towards her desk.

Shirogane lifts an eyebrow at his before turning his attention down to what looks like an essay or report of some sort on his laptop. His professor takes off her glasses as he approaches, holding out her hand to take Keith’s quiz from him. She sighs as she flips through it and he glances to the side, shame barely managing to smother the whirlwind of anger that had been stabbing his gut earlier.

“Is everything okay, Keith?” she asked. “It’s very alarming when a student goes from A’s the entire semester to barely getting a thirty percent on a quiz.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says, voice small. He notices Shirogane’s head angle, as if trying to hear their conversation better, progress on his report slowing. It takes a lot for Keith not to scowl at him.

“If you keep this up, I’ll have to report you, since you’re here on scholarship. I’ve seen your file and know that if your scholarship gets revoked, we lose you. If what I’ve heard is true, you’re a gifted pilot and it’d be a shame to see you go. Please don’t make me have to do that.” She paused. “Are you okay, Keith?”

He realizes he didn’t answer her earlier when she had asked. “I’m fine, ma’am.”

She sighs, putting the quiz to the side and pulling a pen of her desk and a Garrison brand pack of sticky notes. “You’re probably going to be late for your next class, so let me write you a note.” Her pen barely pressed against the pad before Shirogane spoke up.

“I’m actually headed to the same class as him, so I can take care of notifying the professor, if you’d like, ma’am.” He was already standing to put his stuff away, shutting his laptop and placing his folders on top of it before securing it with his arm. The professor sets her pen down and smiles at him.

“Thank you, Shirogane. I’ll see the both of you tomorrow, and I have high expectations for you, Keith.” They nod goodbye and walk out the door, Keith making sure there is a comfortable distance between them as they walk down the hall. They turn the first corner when Shirogane speaks up.

“You seemed to be in a hurry to get to your room when cadets were dismissed for lunch today. Did you not eat?” He only received silence as an answer, which made him sigh. “Listen, cadet-." 

“My name is Keith,” he said, uncaring that he had just cut off a high-ranking officer. Shame be damned, his gut now pinched with anger, and the presence next to him isn’t doing anything to lessen it.

It was silent for a moment. “Keith,” he said slowly, before picking up, “I don’t mind you grabbing your food and studying in your room during meals, but I do mind you skipping them entirely. I know you don’t eat breakfast, and if you continue skipping lunch I’ll have to intervene, seeing as living off of one meal a day at your age with the activities you’re doing isn’t healthy.”

Keith’s anger boils over, the red tinge of his ears spreading to his cheeks as he speaks through gritted teeth, stopping to look at Shirogane. “You’ll _intervene_? What, are you going to report me _too_?”

Shirogane frowns. “There’s no need to be so angry, Keith-.”

“There’s every reason! Why won’t you just let me be-,” Keith yells and, before reason can push through the dense cloud in his mind, his fist pulls back, aiming to connect with Shirogane’s chest. The blow is intercepted easily though, and before he knows it his face is shoved into the wall of the hallway, arm twisted behind his back painfully. Keith struggles in his grip, only halting when Shirogane pushes on his arms more, increasing the strain in them. After he’s quiet, only panting sounding throughout the hall, he speaks again.

“Now that you’re done acting like a child, maybe you’ll listen to me.” He stops, as if waiting for a retort from Keith. When the only response he gets is the visible grit of Keith’s teeth, he continues. “It is every high ranking officers job to watch out for our cadets and keep them out of harms way. Letting you starve yourself because you don’t like people doesn’t look very good in my file, or yours. By intervene, I meant walk you to and from meals like the child you just acted like. I have no interest in reporting you, especially for something as stupid as skipping lunch and breakfast.” He dropped Keith’s wrist and backed away, crossing his arms and watching the shorter cadet unstick himself from the wall.

Keith is still fuming, though his skin is retreating from the vibrant red of anger to just his ears and his collarbones, if the warmth there is any indicator. He resists the urge to rub at his shoulder as he watches Shirogane bend down to pick up some of the folders that had slipped form his grip. After a moment, he speaks up. “Are you going to report me for attacking you?”

Shirogane groans, standing. “Did you not hear me? I have no interest in reporting you. Reporting a cadet doesn’t solve the issue; it just causes distrust and resentment. That said, I won’t hesitate to knock you down a few inches if you make it a habit to show such disregard to ranking in the future.” Keith nods, and they slowly start to walk again. “So, did you outburst get whatever was in your system out?” Keith is silent for a moment before slowly nodding. 

“I think so. For the most part, anyways.” Shirogane chuckles at that.

“That’s good. Hopefully that doesn’t happen often.” Silence. “…Does it?”

“I don’t see why that matters,” Keith sniffs, looking away. Shirogane huffs, nods his head once, and then turns to Keith.

“Have you tried working it out?”

Keith eyes him warily. “You mean like a therapist?”

Shirogane shakes his head. “No, like actually _working it out._ You seem better now after throwing a punch.”

Keith tilts his head. The idea makes sense to him, since he does feel calmer now. “I haven’t.”

“Well if you want to, there’s a gym on the left side, near the third year dorms. Granted, first and second years aren’t allowed without supervision, but you can join me when I work out, if you want. Not many use it when I go, so you won’t have to worry about others bothering you.” Shirogane smiles down at Keith, and stares at him uneasily.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Keith asks, watching Shirogane’s smile slip off his face. The older man pauses before shrugging, turning his attention forward again.

“You’re a talented pilot. It’d be a waste if you let all your anger get pent up and ended up getting expelled after beating someone up.” Keith flinched involuntarily as Shirogane laughed. “Also, I’m not really used to people not liking me – not that I’m bragging or anything – so I’m hoping that maybe you’ll quit glaring at me when you think I’m not looking.” Keith flushes in embarrassment at his words, looking away stubbornly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, only to be waved off.

“It’s okay. So, are you up for working out with me?” They approach the doors to the flight simulator room, stopping to stare at each other.

“Uh, yeah, sure. What time?”

“I usually go after first and second year’s dinner time, when it’s the third years and high ranking officers dinner, so no one bothers me. We can meet outside the Union if you want? They won’t let you in the wing unless you have a third year with you,” Shirogane starts to pull out his ID badge that is needed to get into the simulators as he speaks.

“Okay.” Keith answers. “Thank you, Shirogane.”

Shirogane smiles at him, “Call me Shiro; Shirogane is too fancy.” Keith nods once as the doors open, heads turning towards them as Shirogane – _Shiro_ apologizes for interrupting and tells the professor why they’re late, leaving out the fight and talk they had. Class resumes and Shiro walks up the stairs to the observation deck, nodding at Keith through the glass.

Keith nods back before turning to the professor as he starts assigning groups for the next simulation.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my poor son lmao all i do is cause him pain
> 
> also hey !! this thing should be about 20 chapters, so be prepared! I want to try to get it done relatively quickly because there's some other stuff I want to work on so I'm hoping to get at least halfway done before my school year ends in six weeks and finish this during June. that's probably subject to change but that's the plan so far haha

Keith returns to Union after dinner is let out, waiting by the doorway as the trickle of people slows from a rush to a few every thirty seconds. Shiro almost passes him on his way out the door, seeming surprised to actually see Keith waiting for him. He grins. “Ready?” he asks, then continues after Keith nods. “I have to drop my stuff off at my dorm and change first, but then we can head to the gym. Any idea what you want to do yet?”

Keith shrugs. “I like running.” 

Shiro nods. “That’s good, running’s good. There are a few treadmills, and some punching bags and leg equipment too.” He pauses, gaze flickering between Keith and the hallway in front of them. Some cadets pass them every now and then, using up their free time before lights out in a few hours. Keith gets strange glances, but keeps his head pointed forward to help ignore them. They stop into the door leading to the third year wing, Shiro flashing his ID over the scanner and the doors sliding open. Keith waits outside his dorm room while Shiro puts his laptop and work away and changes into a white shirt and gym shorts, looking up as he exits the room and locks it with a key connected to his ID. 

“Why do third years not share dorms?” he asks. He thought everyone had a roommate, some unlucky enough to have two since overcrowding was common in first years. Shiro shrugged and walked down the hall, Keith jogging to catch up with him. 

“A large percentage of cadets drop out at the end of their first or second year. There are enough rooms that we don’t need to have two to each, though some chose to.” Keith nods and they turn a corner, gym visible through the tinted glass doors. Shiro flashes his ID again before stuffing it into his pocket. He pulls black fingerless boxing gloves out of his other pocket, slipping them on while Keith stares at the treadmill. He grins and uses a gloved hand to push Keith towards one, saying, “Go on, it’s not going to bite.”

Keith gives him a half-hearted glare before stepping onto the machine, turning it on. It’s one of the newer ones, though Keith wouldn’t know the difference, seeing as he’s never used one. It takes him a while until he finds a comfortable pace, the mechanical hum of the machine and sounds of Shiro’s fist connecting with the punching bag fading away as he lets himself get lost in his thoughts. 

He thinks about the last time he got to run, the day before he left for the Garrison. He remembers the anxious ball that had nested itself into his abdomen, keeping him up the entire night before. He’d slept the entire next day, drifting between conscious and blank dreams and left him more restless than he was before. It was almost nine when he had pulled himself from the bed, changed, and snuck out the back door found in the kitchen without being noticed. 

He ran into the small town located ten minutes from the orphanage, passing neighborhoods and small businesses. He ran past the school he had grown up in, the population of the town so small that the large building fit each grade. The windows were dark to match the night, though Keith swore he could hear the taunts that had followed him from his childhood. He shook his head and pushed forward, grass and leaves crunching under his feet.

He ran over the bridge that takes him out of the town, on the side of the highway. He ran until he felt the familiar pang in his ribs, though shook the feeling off and kept going. He turned away from the highway, running towards the tree line and small forest that served as background for the town he’d been stuck in since for the last ten years. He slowed eventually, walking the rest of the way as he took in gulps of air, letting his fingers brush against the bark of trees and stepping over larger rocks. He didn’t know how long he walked, but eventually he made it to his sanctuary, letting a sigh rack his body.

A small spot of grass nestled in the dense forest had been Keith’s escape for years. He let himself collapse on his knees before rolling onto his back, gazing softly at the night sky. His hand rested on his stomach the other curled behind his head. 

The stars that had served as constant motivation for Keith throughout his childhood were dim tonight, softly twinkling in the night sky. Keith’s breathing slowed, soft inhales the only sound in the near silent twilight. 

He broke his stare with the stars and nestled his face into his elbow, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that had made it’s home in his sternum. He thought that this is what torture was, the reality that no matter how hard he worked he couldn’t fill the space. No list of achievements or perfect grades had managed to lessen the ache, and now the stars were starting to lack, as if only there to remind Keith of his place in the world. Not as a pilot, or orphan, but as one of many who had messed up in their selfish search of life. 

Keith took a deep breath, drawing himself back from his daydream. His brows furrowed as he looked at the numbers on the treadmill, not understanding what most of it meant. He could feel his muscles tinge with the threat of sore limbs tomorrow, a soft push of discomfort against his ribs from not running in so long. He continued though, glancing back and noticing Shiro’s constant attacks on the punching bag slowing down before he eventually stopped, breathing heavily and placing his hands on his hips. Keith took that as his cue to stop, halting the machine and stepping off of it. 

His bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat, pushed messily to the sides of his face. He could feel the lower back of his shirt soaked with sweat and barely contained a disgusted expression as it stuck to his skin. Shiro glanced up at him for a minute, lip quirking before glancing away. 

“What?” Keith asked defensively, hoping that he wouldn’t get riled up after spending so long trying to get it out of his system. 

“It’s nothing,” Shiro said shortly, amusement evident in his tone, “Your hair is a mess.”

Keith shrugged, already feeling the quick bout of anger fade. “Yeah.”

Shiro started pulling his gloves off, glancing at Keith. “So, I take it you really like running, huh? I said your name like, three times and you didn’t answer.” Keith quirked an eyebrow.

“What did you need?” 

“Ahh-,” Shiro said, already walking towards the doors of the gym, “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Keith frowned at that, annoyance flickering in his gut at being brushed off. 

Shiro walks him all the way to the doors leading into the third wing, seemed comfortable with the silence that had surrounded them. Keith focuses on the shower he’s going to take, already imagining the hot water beating onto his sore muscles. Shiro swipes his ID again, watching as Keith steps through the doors. 

“Good night, Keith,” he says, “See you tomorrow.” 

xxx 

When Keith wakes the next morning, the soreness in his legs can’t overcome how _rested_ he feels.

That is, until he sees the time on his clock.

“Shit!” he hisses, yanking back the covers and darting around the room to get ready. He gets dressed I record time, which is good considering he has fourteen – no, _thirteen_ minutes until his first class starts. He shoves his class work and books into his bag, grabbing his toothbrush as he darts towards the showers. He stops in front of the mirror, noticing that the room seems to be barren, which only makes him brush his teeth faster. A chick glance at his appearance deserves an eye roll, hair sticking up horrendously from immediately falling asleep after his shower the night before, not bothering to dry his hair much first. He finishes brushing his teeth and shoves his toothbrush into his bag, cringing slightly. 

He makes his way across the Garrison in record time, settling in his seat two minutes before class starts, heart still pounding in his ribcage. The rest of class goes by smoothly at most, only hitting a bump when he runs out of clean paper midway through notes and has to finish them on the backs of old assignments and handouts. Otherwise his day goes by smoothly and he even remembers to stock up on paper when he returns to his dorm for lunch. 

He floats through his next class, jotting down notes and answering questions when the professor calls on him. Shiro is there again, jotting down notes on a loose sheet of paper and typing furiously on his laptop, pausing every now and then before he continues at a rapid pace, and it’s okay. Everything is okay. Keith is okay.

Keith is _not_ okay a mere ten minutes later as he steps out of the flight simulator, lasting only two minutes.

His professor is more than annoyed with him, yelling questions that Keith doesn’t have answers for. He doesn’t know what went wrong, can’t fathom why anything could’ve gone wrong when he had been so _calm_ the entire day, he’s even calm _now_ as he stands in front of his class, all whispering about his first failed simulation.

It could’ve been a miscalculation or they had missed something, the professor says, trying to get Keith to pass the blame, but he knows. He knows that the failure was equal parts his fault, probably more if he was going to be honest, and he doesn’t know _why._ He keeps the reason to himself though, accepting full blame for his actions and apologizing to his crew. He’s still calm as he walks to the back of the group like usual, confusion drifting around his head for the rest of the class. He doesn’t even register when another cadet turns around, leaning down slightly so the professor can’t hear him ask, “What happened?” because even the cadets watching are as confused as he is.

 He gives him a blank stare, watching the tanned teen leans back slightly, brown hair waving slightly as he turns back to his friend, elbowing the larger man softly before settling in to watch as another team easily aces what Keith couldn’t. 

Keith is the first one out when class is dismissed, walking in a haze while his mind flies to everything that had happened. He’s almost back to the first year dorms when someone calls his name, followed by the hand grasping his bicep lightly. Keith shrugs the hand off his arm sharply before turning, matching the look Shiro gives him. 

“What happened back there?” he asks, and Keith belatedly realizes he must have been watching, _he’s always watching, how could you forget?_ “Are you okay?” 

Keith blinks at him and shrugs, “Yeah.”

Shiro frowns slightly at the answer, leaning away from Keith to glance him over, as if looking for any signs of injury or sickness. He gives Keith a weary look when he finds nothing, but something about the fifteen-year-olds indifference for the situation tells him that maybe pursuing a conversation about it wouldn’t be best. He opens his mouth to say something, stops, and starts again slowly. “Are you still up for training tonight?” 

Keith thinks about it, weighing his options as he stares down the hallway. Most students are in the dorms or other areas of the Garrison by now, a few passing them every now and then and staring at their odd interaction. Keith makes eye contact with a girl who stares at them in confusion before speaking. “I... don’t think so.” He turns back to stare up at Shiro. “Probably tomorrow but just, not now.” 

It takes him a minute to process what he just said, but Shiro bobs his head up and down in understanding. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Keith. Get some rest.” He turns on his heel with a small wave and Keith walks to his dorm, pleased with the absence of his roommate. Keith sits until its time for dinner, walking opposite of the others to the showers instead of he Union. 

He washes his hair with the complimentary shampoo they have in every shower compartment, water turned as hot as he can stand it and the pressure kneading out the tension in his body. He stands there for a long time, reveling in how relaxed he feels before he gets out, towel drying his hair the best he can before drying off, noticing the difference between the white towel and his beet red skin. He puts his white shirt and pants back on, placing the towel over his shoulders to shield his shirt from his dripping hair and grabbing his jacket. 

He passes through the hallway quickly, opening and closing the door to his room behind him. He crashes into his bed, dropping his jacket off the side of it to let the garment pool on the ground. He lays the towel over his pillow and closes his eyes, sleeping the rest of the day away.

xxx 

_Keith hears his name being called, moves through the waves of bodies to the front. His crew is picked just as quickly as he was while the other cadets wait, watching. He lets the other two, both guys, enter the simulator ahead of him, walking slowly to the pilots chair and settling in. He feels different this time, doesn’t feel the same relaxation that dulls his thoughts and brings out instinct. He’s still calm, has been all day, but now there’s the underlying feeling of anxiety, a blinking red light in the corner of his mind as he starts the simulation._

_It’s going smoothly for the most part, the mission supposed to be easier than the last one he had done. His crew keeps them on track and everything is running good, everything is working and everyone is calm._

_“We need to land in one hundred feet, in that clearing,” one of the boys says, motioning towards the small part of the planet not covered in water or large rocks._  

_Keith stares forward and starts to slowly lower the simulator. He can feel the red light in his mind grow; flickering on and off rapidly as his breathing speeds up. His stomach churns painfully and his hands shake on the controls, accidentally applying too much pressure and the craft begins to move forward much faster, quickly approaching the planets surface._

_He can distantly hear his crew yelling at him, their outrage overpowered by the ringing in his ears that grows louder and louder until it’s all he can hear. His chest rises and falls as he tries to gasp in air, get a hold of himself, limbs slack but tensed at the same time and he feels_ helpless, _like nothing he can do is going to make a difference._

 _He doesn’t bother bracing for impact like his crew, hitting the planet dead on and jerking violently in his chair. He sits there for a moment, staring at the red letters on the screen that spell out SIMULATION FAILED. He’s silent, not moving as his crew starts to unbuckle and move towards the exit, grumbling at Keith’s failure. He slowly pulls the belt off of himself, coming out of the simulator a minute after the others, eyes wide and head bowed slightly. He’s not sure how to approach his professor because this has never happened before; he’s never had to explain why a mission failed because it_ hasn’t _until now._

_His day finishes, following the same string of events that he remembers prior to falling asleep. He wakes up in the morning and gets ready, ignoring his roommate’s questions if he’s okay. He walks to class in silence, the mass of cadets seeming to part for him as he walks down the hall. He’s barely in the room for five minutes before one of the Garrison’s secretary’s walks in, calling his name and asking her to follow him._

_He’s led to a large conference room, a mixture of familiar faces and strangers sitting and staring at him. He sees Shiro, sitting at attention and refusing to meet Keith’s gaze, playing the golden boy he had appeared to Keith before their first meeting. His teachers are there, making eye contact with him as the man at the head of the table stands, folder in his hand._

_“Keith Kogane,” he says, and it’s his file in his hand, “While reviewing your scholarship, we were alerted to your continuous list of unacceptable behavior. From failing tests and simulations to attacking a higher ranking officer, you have continuously disappointed the Galaxy Garrison.”_

_Keith’s eyes burn holes into the side of Shiro’s face, staring incredulously at him. He had_ lied _to Keith, he said he wasn’t going to turn him in and he_ did.

_Keith’s scowl at Shiro lips off his face as the man continues, letting Keith’ open file drop to the table. “Because of your actions, the Galaxy Garrison has decided to revoke your scholarship and expel you for insubordination. You are to pack your belongings and vacate Galaxy Garrison property within the hour or you will be fined.” The front page of Keith’s file is his admission ticket, a large red stamp saying EXPELLED pressed across the picture of him on it._

_The words register in Keith’s brain as the world around him starts to crumble, pieces of his world breaking off to disappear into a black void, the other occupants unaware of what’s happening around them until it’s too late. He feels his head spinning, mind running as his breathing picks up, choked sobs exiting his body in violent shudders as his life is rebuilt in front of him. He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing the heel of his hands into his sockets as his shoulders shake, the ringing he had heard earlier surrounding him, though it’s so loud he can’t hear himself scream._

Keith lurches forwards, dry heaving and gasping for air brokenly. His hands clench his tee shirt and a quick glance down shows red scratches against his arms, but he’s sitting up in bed as his roommate sleeps silently in the bed across from his. His alarm says it’s only three a.m., and he realizes that he just had a nightmare. He wants to laugh at himself for acting like a little kid, trying to calm his breathing as he steps out of his bed to walk around the room. 

He can feel sweat making his tee shirt stick to his back and scowls, realizing that the wet strands of hair attached to his neck aren’t from his shower. He grabs a clean shirt and pair of boxers, making his way to the showers for the second time in less than twelve hours. He has to walk silently, knowing that being out after curfew isn’t unheard of but not appreciated by security. He thanks the stars that the shower room is sound proof, cranking the water heat all the way up. He feels the water burn against his skin but it’s tolerable, working to relax his muscles. He washes his hair again, pushing the black strands of his bangs back, thinking distantly that he needs a haircut.

It’s minutes later that he lets his mind wander back to his nightmare. It seemed like a memory, the first half of his simulation failure being one, but the end still manages to send a shiver of worry through him. He knows it was a figment of his imagination but can’t help the resentment he feels for Shiro and his professors’ pile up until he’s humming with annoyed energy, brows furrowed and muscles tense. He turns the water off and grabs a towel, drying his hair roughly before pushing it back again. He gets dressed in silence; discarding his towel in the hamper and walking back to his room, warm soles of his feet sticking to the freezing concrete floor of the hallway. 

He slowly opens and closes the door, looking at his roommate often to make sure he’s still asleep. There’s no doubt that he’d heard of Keith’s recent blunder, and he hopes that he doesn’t wake to questions like he had in the dream. He climbs back into bed, pushing the damp towel off his pillow and onto the floor, turning onto his side and curling his arms around his knees. 

He doesn’t fall asleep, though; he lays there, mind a terrible whirlwind of broken conversations and thoughts. He thinks about the simulation again, not sure what happened but the weight of it is still present on his mind, calling his attention when all he wants to do is sleep. He doesn’t want to think about what his actions may reflect of himself, knowing that there’s some underlying problem he must have but not wanting to pursue any meaningful action for it. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry all the time. He likes the idea of getting to push some of his flaws on some unknown defect within himself, and it’s provides enough comfort that he’s able to fall into a dreamless sleep again.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy all i ever wanna do is write this lately I'm in love
> 
> also the next update might be a bit more spaced out than the recent ones have been bc I've got performances and community shit going on all this week and state testing next week and i'm not sure when I'll have time to write but I'll probably have another chapter out by saturday easily (don't hold me to that though) if not then definitely monday
> 
> also ps i just wrote literally over half of this so if there's an mistakes you have been warned lol

Keith manages to wake up on time the next day, groggy and tired but awake. He gets ready in silence, his roommate not saying a single word to him _thank god,_ manages to even get some studying in before he leaves his dorm for breakfast. 

He usually skips breakfast, resenting the idea that it matters in the slightest, but he feels his stomach twist in hunger at eating a small lunch and skipping dinner the day before. He grabs a banana and half a toasted bagel, leaving the Union to eat in his room. He cracks open his notes from the day before while he eats in silence, feet curled under him as crumbs fall onto his bed sheets. He finishes his breakfast, hands lingering as he reads the last few sentences of his notes before putting them away and into his back pack. 

It’s almost time for cadets to be released for their first class so he stands near his door, bouncing from foot to foot until the bell finally rings and he walks down the hall, silently joining the waves of people headed for the same area of the building as he is. 

His morning goes by uneventful, only receiving lingering stares and, he might be imagining it, a pointed glare from the same kid that had tried talking to him yesterday that lasts throughout the entire hour. He brushes it off and continues on, first to leave and enter his next class. 

He takes a test in his next class and spends the rest of the hour doodling in his notebook between rereading his assignment he had due in his class after lunch, the one Shiro stood in often, making sure that he had each question answered correctly. 

They’re dismissed for lunch soon after, Keith walking opposite all the cadets who prefer to drop off their belongings. He enters the Union, moving to the front and eyeing the options before grabbing an individually wrapped sandwich and water bottle, shoving the food into his jacket pocket before leaving, pushing past the talkative students making their way into the Union. He passes Shiro in the hall on his way to his room, stopping when he calls out to him. 

“Did you get something to eat, Keith?” he asks, staring down at Keith. He nods, though lets a small frown seep onto his face. 

“You don’t have to act like my dad, you know.” 

Shiro laughs, loud and light. Keith ignores the small flutter in his stomach, writing it off as hunger. “If you’re not going to do it, I might as well.” They stood in silence for a moment and Keith switches his weight to his other foot, looking past Shiro. “So, are you feeling better today?” 

Keith moves his gaze back to Shiro, giving a small purse of his lips that could pass as a smile. “Yeah, I am.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keith scowls, which makes Shiro let out another laugh. “Okay. If you change your mind, I’ll listen.” 

“Thank you, Shiro.” 

“No problem. If you’ll excuse me, I actually enjoy eating lunch in the company of other human beings,” He says teasingly, giving a grin before turning to walk towards the Union. Keith makes it to his room in record time, emptying his pocket and settling in, easily toeing his boots off and curling up in his bed while he studies and eats. His mind drifts easily though and the more he thinks about it the more upset he feels. It’s different than usual though, not the all-consuming rage that pools in his abdomen, but a dull ache of mistrust and discomfort he had felt lingering after his short conversation with Shiro. It’s strange and upsetting in ways that he can’t explain, hoping that classes and training tonight is enough for him to outgrow the obnoxious feelings.

xxx 

He’s skipped over in being picked for the simulator, silently mortified and silently thankful. He hopes that this doesn’t become a normal thing, not sure he can handle going without the stress release that follows a successful mission. 

He feels like he could go a round in the sim and pass today, mind more focused than it was yesterday and no overwhelming anxiety or ringing present. He sits silently in the back, watching his classmates move through the simulator, receiving advice and explanations for their errors form the other cadets as usual. 

He’s spaced out for most of it, mind moving to all the planets he’d like to visit and the stars he’d like to see when he becomes a pilot. He’s not sure what he’ll be doing yet, since cadets don’t get placed in classes until their second year, when they’ve had enough experience in the sim to be accurately placed. 

He’s got a pretty good idea, though. Even counting his recent blunder, Keith can see himself being put into fighter class, though he’ll never voice it because bragging isn’t really his preferred method of conversation. He has raw talent and has built up some skill throughout the time he’s been at the Garrison and his grades are damn near perfect due to his obsession with studying. 

That’s where his thoughts end because their professor is giving a mini-lecture on how a team must work together and what not, and Keith really wants to tune him out but it’s a bit hard to think over his loud voice. 

They’re dismissed after receiving an earful on how awful they are and Keith makes it back to his room fairly quickly. His roommate stops in for a moment, leaving his bag by the foot of his bed and offering Keith a small wave as he quickly disappears out the door again. Keith finishes his homework before dinner, sneaking in and grabbing what he had for lunch and eating in the silence of his room. It’s not long until dinner is supposed to be let out, leaving Keith to change into clothes that could be considered workout appropriate before waiting outside the Union for Shiro. 

It doesn’t take long for him to appear, laughing at something a man with glasses and orange hair said before noticing Keith’s presence, waving a small goodbye to his friend. They walk in silence to the third year’s wing, Shiro letting out little hums as they pass people lingering about. He swipes his ID and the doors to the wing open, letting Keith step through behind Shiro.

He unlocks his room, leaving the door open behind him. “You can come in, if you want. You don’t have to stand outside,” he calls to Keith, and when the younger boy turns to walk into the room he’s rummaging through his dresser, setting a black tee shirt and matching gym shorts on top of it before starting to untie his shoes. 

Keith looks around the dorm. Everything is much larger than his, including the bed, dresser, and desk. A door near the back is open, showing what looks like a personal shower, which is all kinds of unfair in Keith’s book. There’s a TV on a stand across from Shiro’s bed and Keith feels jealously flare at the sight. He’d never gotten to watch TV often, since the few at the orphanage were always playing kid shows for the younger children or TV dramas that the caretakers liked to watch.

 He’s pouting so much that he doesn’t notice Shiro disappear into the bathroom to change, reappearing in a short amount of time and grabbing his key. 

“Keith?” he says, laughing as Keith is visibly torn from his thoughts. “Are you coming?” 

“Uhh- yeah. Sure.”

The gym is barren again and Keith keeps his eyes away from the treadmill, not sure if the machine and his weird day were connected any but choosing to not risk it. He turns to Shiro, who’s already starting to pull on his gloves.

“Umm,” he starts, waiting until Shiro looks at him to continue. “What do you usually do? I’m not really in a running mood.” Shiro’s gaze switches between him and the punching bag before shrugging. 

“Just some defensive training. Do you want to learn how?” 

Keith hopes his nod wasn’t as embarrassingly eager as he felt like it was, takes Shiro’s grin as _it totally was._  

Shiro spends the next forty-five minutes teaching Keith the basics of hand-to-hand combat and blocks, showing him how to string them together into an actual hit. He hold’s himself back from laughing several times because _hey, at leas the kids trying_. Shiro’s almost surprised at how quickly Keith is picking up on everything getting thrown at him before remembering that this is the first year with only _one_ failed simulation to his name and even that has yet to be explained. He would probably more surprised is Keith hadn’t excelled at this. 

Shiro gives them a break, moving to grab a paper cup and filling it at the water machine a few times. Keith continues to practice what he had learned on the punching bag, using the back of his forearms to block when the punching bag returns from a hit. There’s still a lack of strength and balance, obvious when a harder hit causes the punching bag to swing faster and he almost falls over from the force placed on his forearms. Shiro smiles and throws away his cup and walking up to Keith, stopping the pendulum motion of the punching bag. Keith throws a glare at him over his shoulder, turning to look at Shiro. 

“What? I was just starting to get the hang of it.” 

Shiro nods his head once, smiling. “There’ll be more time to practice later, hot shot. Do you want to apply what you learned against something real?” 

Keith feels anger boil in his stomach at the nickname, allowing himself to slip into a defensive pose Shiro had shown him earlier. Shiro mirrors him, nodding once to signal that Keith will start. 

It takes all of ten seconds for Shiro to grab Keith’s wrist, pull him forward and knock his feet out from under him. Keith hits the ground, grunting in the pain that surges up his side where his hip makes contact. It takes him a few seconds to get up again, and they continue on like that for several more minutes. 

Keith lets out a growl of annoyance by the sixth time he hits the ground, jumping up quickly and letting anger overtake him. It catches Shiro by surprise, enough so that he can barely keep up with Keith as he jumps side to side, looking for a weak spot. What Keith lacks in experience and strength he makes up for his speed, finally landing a hit on Shiro’s ribs. The taller man lets out a grunt, feet getting tangled underneath him and falling backwards. 

He’ll be the first to admit that reaching out to find something to steady himself wasn’t the best idea, especially when that something is Keith, who’s easily pulled down with him and odes nothing to stop his backwards motion. Keith lands on top of Shiro with a brief exhale, drawing in a sharp breath and moving to sit up. His elbow accidentally digs into Shiro’s abdomen, hearing the grunt of pain before quickly picking his elbow up and moving off of him. 

It’s too late though; the damage has been done. Shiro quickly sits up, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at Keith incredulously. 

“ _Jesus_ , Keith,” he breathes, “How are you so _bony_?” he asks, reaching out as if to grab Keith’s waist or a limb to make sure he didn’t just imagine it.

Keith scoffs, perfect picture of pissed off and offended as he pulls away from the outstretched hand. “I’m not _bony_ , I’m just naturally thin. It’s lean muscle.” 

Shiro rolls his eyes, pushing himself up to stand. “No wonder you get knocked done so easily, you have nothing to keep yourself grounded.” 

“Hey!” Keith yells, jumping up after him. 

Shiro shrugs. “I’m just saying. Seriously though, it’s really not healthy for a boy your age to be so thin. I get that you hate people and all, but that doesn’t mean you can just skip meals.” 

Keith’s scowl deepens, his arms moving to cross over his chest. “I’m so sorry my arms aren’t the size of _toddlers_. Besides, I don’t hate people.”

Shiro seems generally confused at Keith’s insult, and he watches him try to sneak a quick glance to his biceps. “Whatever you say. You’re the most antisocial kid I’ve ever met.”

“If I were antisocial would I be here?”

“Good point,” Shiro says, making his way back to the water machine. Keith trails after him, not uncrossing his arms. “If you don’t hate people, why do you avoid the Union like a plague?” 

Keith turns his nose up. “I don’t know any of them.”

“That’s because you’re antisocial and _refuse_ to get to know any of them.” Keith throws his arms in the air. 

“You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.” Shiro laughs and throws away his paper cup again, starting to remove your gloves.

“With your temper, I’m sure it’s an honor,” he tips his head once, “But I’m serious about the eating thing. Obviously you eat _something_ , but it’s not enough. If it’s the Union that’s stopping you from having full meals, you can eat with me or something. Hell, we could go sit in the garden if you want.” 

Keith snaps his head to the side quickly. “There’s a garden?” 

“I mean, not _technically,_ ” Shiro shrugs, watching Keith deflate. “It’s more of a greenhouse that doesn’t smell like a greenhouse.”

“That’s… considerably more lame.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” 

“And who the hell said I was begging?” 

Shiro laughed, waving him off before moving towards the doors to the gym. “So, are you going to take me up on my offer?”

Keith follows after him, eyeing the taller man. “I’ll think about it.” 

Shiro looks back to grin down at him, and Keith can feel the tension in his shoulders lessen.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo !!!
> 
> it's 12:14 a.m. so I didn't technically finish this on friday, but it's whatevs. 
> 
> longer chapters are coming!! this one is like 2700 or something but it's mostly relationship development stuff so that's why it's a bit shorter!! also hey I post as soon as I finish a chapter so I don't really beta them so if you see anything weird just tell me lol enjoy

It’s takes a few days until his professor gives Keith another shot at the simulator.

He feels like he’s back in the groove of things, feels normal. He’d been really hoping for the chance to fly again, especially after someone in his earlier class had mocked him for being skinny and having to go through the day with the disgruntled annoyance. 

He’s _not_ skinny. He’s lean. 

He can forget about the weight comment easily when he slips into the pilot seat, hands wandering over the controls. He has a different crew this time and they work together, answering questions quickly and with respect. He finishes the sim on good time and makes it his personal best. 

His professor nods at him as he steps out behind his crew and he returns it, walking slowly to the back. He glances up at the observation deck and catches Shiro’s eye. He smiles down at Keith, mouthing “good job” through the thick glass, which earns an amused lifted brow before he mouths “thank you” back. 

He spends the rest of the class lost in thought, mind wandering over the past few days in his mind. He would like to say he conquered the uncomfortable feeling, squashed it deeper and deeper inside himself to reside with all his other repressed feelings, but it still lingers in his joints long after. He’s not sure if there’s something wrong with him, and unknown disease or some psychological break that happened without him knowing. He makes a mental note to visit the nurse soon to see if she can see what’s going in. 

Despite his discomfort, he’s gone to the gym with Shiro almost every night since. He’s still frustrated over being continuously knocked on his ass everyday, but the release of pent up anger is making his life at the Garrison easier. He looks calmer now, his roommate tell him one morning, less like an angry, arrogant asshole. Keith wants to be mad at the comment, but he’s so caught off guard by it that he just comments on his alliteration, which earns him a laugh. He’s studying better, too; he doesn’t need to take as many breaks to silently count to ten when he sits in the library and can hear those around him whispering or distracting him. 

He and Shiro talk more, too. He finds out that Shiro is observing so many classes because he’s going to play a part in the new recruits placement next year. He also makes a joke about getting his superiors work pushed onto him, so that’s why he’s always writing reports or essays or awkwardly filling in for them in classes he otherwise would never be. Keith asked him if he’s annoyed by all the work and Shiro shrugged. 

“I mean, not really. It’s a lot of extra shit I really don’t have time for, but the experience and people I meet are fun, so I guess it’s worth it in the long run.” His eyes cut to Keith’s, amusement heavy. “Plus, a lot of officers owe me now. I’ll probably never need it, but having a superior owe you is pretty awesome, huh?” 

Keith thought that he and Shiro’s definition of awesome is pretty different, though he didn’t voice it because he knew that what Shiro meant didn’t get translated right, that he doesn’t think it’s awesome but _could_ be, if he were a different type of person. Keith nodded silently, and they continued to spar for a while before Shiro called it a night.

Shiro learns why Keith came to the Garrison, though it’s a drawn out confession that spans their entire gym time due to Keith’s stubbornness to supply information about him. He’d asked on their way over to the gym, later bargaining with Keith after he had continuously refused to talk about it. 

“Each time I knock you down,” he said, talking slow so Keith had time to process the deal, “You tell me more about why you came here. Deal?” 

Keith’s face soured before shrugging. “Whatever. Deal.”

He had sorely misjudged how often he got knocked down. By the end of their session, Shiro left knowing how embarrassingly obsessed with stars and the idea of traveling to see what he never had before he was. It had been a blow to his pride, especially when Shiro had said that it was cute, which fired Keith up into getting his first hit of the night in. It was a win-lose situation for both sides that day. 

It was strange how easy it had been for him and Shiro to fall into such an easy routine so quickly, he thought. He’d never really had friends before, still didn’t count his weird workout relationship with Shiro as a friendship, and had been surprised how easy it actually was to be so casual with someone. The more he thought about it like that, the more he accepted that he sounded like some loser or five year old going to kindergarten on their first day. 

The strangeness about it didn’t stop him from loitering outside of the Union that day, leaning against the wall for Shiro to finish and walk with him to the gym. He appears quicker than usual, laptop tucked under his arm as he bounces to a stop in front of Keith, looking a bit sheepish as he stares down at him. 

“Hey, I have a lot of reports to finish, so I don’t think I’ll make it to the gym tonight.”

Keith falters, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Oh. Uh, okay.” 

Shiro’s takes one step around, mouth opening to speak again before closing, seeming to think about his words. “Do you want to hang out?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want to hang out?” he asks again, not registering why Keith seemed surprised by the question. They hang out every day; just today will be in a different place. “You can come hang out while I finish my reports. I work better with company anyways.” 

Keith’s mind is still reeling from the sudden request and he’s not sure when he said yes but he finds himself waking behind Shiro on his way to the third year dorms, listening to his quick chatter. 

“-And you know the other day when you asked if all the extra reports annoyed me and I said no? I think this is God’s idea of a joke, trying to make me eat my words or some other revenge because the amount of reports that got shoved onto me that are due tomorrow is _ridiculous,_ ” Shiro chatters, fumbling for his ID to open the doors to the wing. Keith doesn’t know if this is what he does when he’s nervous or stressed, maybe a bit of both, but he feels compelled to hum in understanding when Shiro talks.

Shiro’s room opens next and it takes Keith a minute to step in behind him. He’s been in here a few times now, Shiro insisting that Keith doesn’t need to wait outside and can come sit down while Shiro changes and puts up his stuff. He’s got a small desk to the corner next to his bed, large chair that Keith knows is comfy due to sitting in it every chance he gets. His own chair back in his room is hard and wooden and makes his butt numb after sitting down for an hour doing homework. 

Shiro claims that seat though, setting his laptop down and opening it, displaying the large amount of text he already has on one of the reports. He moves to his dresser, pulls out sweatpants and a tee shirt before disappearing into the bathroom, emerging soon after and catching Keith’s gaze, who stands awkwardly near the door. He laughs, uses a hand to beckon Keith in. 

“My room isn’t a black hole, you’re not going to fall in,” he says, amused.

Keith feels like Shiro had perfectly described his room though. He feels like one wrong move is going to cause the floor to fall out from underneath him, his only response to walk slowly over the hard concrete floors. He stops again, unsure where to sit as Shiro pulls his desk chair out and collapses into it. 

“Umm…Shiro?” he asks, “Where can I uh, sit? Since you’re using the chair and all.” He mumbles the end, embarrassed. Shiro quirks a brow, tipping his head towards the bed as if it were common sense. 

“You can sit on my bed or something, I don’t really care as long as you take your shoes off first. The remote is probably somewhere on the bed, if you want to watch TV.” He turns back around, not catching Keith’s dumbfounded stare. It takes him a minute to slowly reach down and untie his shoes, leaving them at the foot of the bed before hesitantly sitting on the side of it. He finds the remote easy enough, turning the TV on and flipping through channels to find something he’d care to watch. Shiro had told him his second time in his room that he mainly uses it to keep up with news, keeps it on while he gets ready and before he goes to bed at night. It’d seem legit enough for Keith, but he settled on an action movie instead.

Shiro works mostly in silence, letting out little comments every now and then that leaves Keith quirking a lip at him before returning to a flurry of fingertips on keys. The movie ends quickly, having only half an hour left when Keith had selected it, another starting in its place. Keith glances over, watching Shiro work.

“What are the reports about, anyway?” he asks. Shiro pauses, looking over at Keith before turning forward again.

“Right now, cadet of interest. I finished one of my observation reports a bit ago and have another one and an essay for a mission application to work on next, though that’s not due until next week.” He doesn’t meet Keith’s gaze, instead staring at the light of his laptop while he types.

“Who’s the cadet of interest?” 

Shiro falters, hitting a few wrong keys before having to erase it. “It’s, uh- you. The cadet of interest is you.” 

Keith inhales sharply, quietly letting an “Oh” slip out in surprise. They’re both silent for a minute before he wiggles across the bed, trying to get closer to Shiro’s laptop. “What do you have so far?” 

Shiro gives him a mock scowl and moves his laptop to face away from his prying eyes. “Nothing, if you don’t stop being nosy.” 

Keith shrugs before resting his chin on his crossed arms, watching Shiro type at an angle before huffing a laugh. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Shiro stops again, eyes skimming over what he has so far before slowly nodding. “Yeah, actually. I don’t think you’ll want to, though.” 

Keith lifts a brow. “Try me.”

“Okay,” Shiro breathes, “I’m writing about _that_ simulation-,” he pauses, eyebrows lifting at the indication, “-And it would help if I could report a reason as to why it happened like it did.” Keith is silent, eyes skirting to the floor. “You don’t have to though, I can just say you were having a ba-.” 

“No, it’s okay.” He turns his head to rest his cheek on his arms, avoiding eye contact with Shiro. “Where do you want me to start?” 

Shiro hurriedly presses a few keys on the laptop. “Just from the start of the problem or simulation, whichever one you want.” 

Keith breathes deeply, closing his eyes. He’s thought so much about that simulation, analyzed everything he’s ever felt to try and compare it to what had come over his like the oceans tide that day to try and make sense of why that foreign feeling had been so overwhelming.

It feels almost like a confession. He’s uncomfortable talking about feelings and his issues, but he can physically feel the tension seeping out of his bones as he explains to Shiro what’s wrong with him. He tells him about the eerie calm that had followed him all day, how it had settled in the pit of his stomach and manifested itself into an anxious pang. He talks about the blinking light, compares it to his night-light he used to have when he was younger, how a red light would blink faster the lower the battery would get. He tells Shiro how foreign and nerve wracking it had been, how he wanted nothing but to make it stop, saying he would rather feel rage every second than have to go through that again. He explains the crash as a response to it, his mind and instinct blanking on him, blocking out logical thought and his teammates until they crashed. He still has slight pain from how violently his head had been thrown around on impact. 

He touches on his anger, about how it’s always been a constant in his life and he’s gotten better at controlling himself in most situations, though build-up is present and it’s a waiting game to see when he’ll snap on someone or something. 

He takes a shaky breath, opening his eyes slightly to gaze at his elbow. “I’m basically seven degrees of fucked up, I guess. It’s okay though, since flying calms my anger quite a bit and I haven’t had any anxious feelings in quite a while. I think about it a lot, still. I’m not sure what happened, but I really hope it doesn’t again.” 

He looks up and holds eye contact with Shiro. He’d stopped typing a bit ago, once they’d gotten past the simulator failure, turning towards Keith and listening to him. His face in focused but spaced out at the same time, soft expression as he listens to Keith’s feelings causing Keith to blush slightly. 

He throws a pillow from behind him, hitting Shiro square in the face. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

Shiro huffs, holds the pillow in his lap with his arms wrapped around it. “I wasn’t looking, I was thinking.”

“About what?” 

Shiro shrugs. “What you said about feelings. What the anxiety problem could mean, mostly, but also about your anger.” 

“Anything useful?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“I mean, I’m obviously not some doctor or something,” Shiro starts, leaning back into the chair, “But I don’t think summing it up to being ‘seven degrees of fucked up’ is technically right. You just have a bit more baggage, which is okay.” 

Keith blinks. For all the therapists and counselors he’s met with in his life, none of them have ever told him that it was _okay_ to feel the way he did. He walked in and they’d slap some mental illness on his file, assigning him med prescriptions the orphanage never took him to fill often enough. He was given _sedatives_ once, his newest therapist sure it was the only way to calm him down. To be told that his feelings were real and have them described as okay, _normal,_ was new to him.

“Keith, are you okay?” Shiro asked, leaning forward again. Keith sucked in a breath and shook his head, setting his forehead onto his arm again. His head was spinning to try and figure out how Shiro, a man who barely knew him and had no doctoral training had managed to sum up and normalize problems he thought he had for years. His heart felt light, as cliché as that sounds. 

“Yeah, just. Thanks for listening,” he muttered, letting out an exhale. He heard Shiro huff and the creaking of the chair as he stood. It only took seconds before he felt a strong hand ruffling through his hair, lingering before pulling away. 

“Always, Keith,” he started, “If you ever need anything, I’m here.” 

Keith turned his head again, looking up at Shiro. He moved to sit on the bed next to Keith, expression serious as he gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It was silent for a few minutes before Shiro broke it.

“Hey, we’re kind of bonding. Like, as buds." 

Keith groaned loudly, rolling around to shun him. 


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the inevitable orphan talk and the Garrison equivalent to Chinese take-out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided it'd be neat to do summaries now haha
> 
> also note: shiro totally enjoys lofi hip-hop and no one can convince me otherwise

Keith yawns, covering his mouth with his hand as he moves through the crowd of bodies towards the dorms. He’s had a long, boring day. He had tests in two classes that he feels pretty confident, took notes in the others, and was passed up for the simulator for cadets who haven’t flown as much. That was okay though, since it left him time to think as the minutes went by slowly. 

He opened the door to his room, setting his bag at the foot of his bed. There was a note on his pillow from his roommate, saying that he wasn’t going to be back until late and not to wait up for him. It hadn’t occurred to Keith that he wasn’t the only one who snuck around past curfew sometimes, and that maybe he and his roommate were more alike than he thought. 

Except, you know, Keith wanders the halls because he forgets to take showers until one in the morning. Who _knows_ what his roommate is doing. 

He drops the note in his wastebasket and moves to pilfer through his dresser. He pulls out an old tee shirt and sweat pants, kicking off his uniform and changing sluggishly. He turns off the light in his room, folding back the covers and settling in his bed in hopes of taking a nap. He’s almost asleep, blissfully treading the line of wake and sleep when there is two knocks on his door, loud enough to fill his room. He ignores it. It’s probably another cadet trying to mess with his roommate or himself, nothing of importance. His eyes close again before the person knocks again, louder this time.

“Keith?” says the muffled voice on the other side of the door. Keith groans, rolling around before ripping the covers away, scowling as he walks towards the door. He takes a moment to turn the lights on before ripping the open the door, glaring at the person on the other side. 

Shiro stands there, fist raised as if he was prepping himself to knock again, lowering slowly as he takes in Keith’s appearance. His hair is messier than usual, the aftermath of rolling around and trying to get comfortable before his nap. The shirt and sweat pants are oversize on him, only serving to emphasize the lean jut of his bones. 

“What do you want?” he drones out, eyebrows furrowed. Shiro lifts his other hand holding a tray with various food items before ducking his head. 

“Can I come in?” 

Keith huffs a breath but moves anyways, letting the door fall shut behind Shiro as he steps into the room. Shiro breathes, glancing around the area that seems much smaller than his room, despite having to accommodate two instead of one. 

“I remember my first year dorm. It’s further down the hall, but looks just like this one,” he says, “That’s back when Matt and I were roommates. Do you know Matt Holt? Orange hair, glasses?”

Keith shrugs and nods at his description, successfully confusing Shiro, flopping back on his bed. “What did you need?”

Shiro sets the tray on his desk and occupies the desk chair, leaning into it. “I saw you walk right past he Union without grabbing food first, so I thought I’d bring you something.” Keith eyes him.

“I thought you had to chaperone first year meals?” 

Shiro shrugged. “I asked a friend of mine to cover for me since he’s in there anyways. Nothing ever happens, so it doesn’t really matter. So, you hungry?” 

“I mean, not really… that’s kind of why I skipped dinner.”

If Shiro’s fazed but Keith’s refusal, he doesn’t show it. “Great! I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed what I usually get.” He started separating the food, put in what looked like to-go boxes. He must’ve asked the Union chefs to do that for him since Keith had never seen it set up like that when being served. “They make really good fried rice here, almost as good as a restaurant in the next town over. Have you ever had fried rice?” Keith shook his head slowly, eyeing the now open boxes. Shiro handed him his box, full of the rice, some kind of chicken, and noodles. He tossed a fork to him before starting to eat, unaware of Keith’s glare at the box in front of him. 

After a few minutes of near silence and no motion from Keith, Shiro flashed him a look. “What? Try it, it’s good.” 

Keith pulled his lips back into a grimace. “I don’t know about this.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It just…looks weird. I don’t know.”

Shiro gives him a look. _Are you kidding me_ , is what his eyes read, but he says, “You don’t know if it’s real if you don’t try it, Keith. Come on, it won’t hurt you.” 

Keith scowls at him. “I know it won’t _hurt_ me,” he says angrily, still not moving to take a bite of it. Shiro sighs and watches Keith for a few more minutes. He refuses to meet his stare, instead staring down at the box with a look of discomfort. 

“Are you a picky eater or something?” Shiro finally asks. Keith looks guilty as he slowly nods his head. “That’s okay, then. You don’t have to try it if you really don’t want to.” 

Keith looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Really?” 

Shiro huffs a laugh. “Duh. It’s not like I can force you to eat or anything.” 

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?” 

“I don’t know. You went through the trouble to get me this…”

Shiro turns his attention back to his food, taking a bite before answering. “It can’t really be helped. There’s no point in getting angry over something like that.”

Shiro finishes his food and closes the box. Keith had taken to daydreaming like usual, not realizing what was happening until the box was plucked out of his hands. “Wait-,” he starts, hand reaching out on it’s own volition before returning to his side at Shiro’s lifted brow. 

“I thought you didn’t want it?” 

Keith’s mouth opens and closes before he decides on what to say. “I was just, uh. Thinking.”

Shiro pauses before laughing. “Are you okay today? You seem a bit more out of it than usual.” 

“I’m tired.”

“You're tired all the time _,_ ” Shiro says, then holds the box out between them. “So, do you actually want this?” 

He stares at the contents of it, fork still resting in his hand. His stomach churns, from hunger or the pang of _don’t do it_ , he’s not sure. 

“I think I want to try it,” he finally says, reaching out to take the box. Years of testing different foods have taught him to start out with a small amount, and that’s what he does. He tried the rice first before moving to the chicken. It’s covered in some kind of sauce that he dips in fork in first, making sure it’s okay before taking a bite form one of the pieces. Shiro watches in amusement as Keith skips over the noodles completely. 

“So, how is it?” 

Keith is silent for a minute, like he’s thinking. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, taking another bite of rice. Shiro lets his head rest against the back of the desk chair, eyes slipping closed. 

“How did you know I was a picky eater?”

He rolls his head to the side to regard Keith, who’s munching on a piece of orange chicken. “I mean, it was pretty obvious. I had a friend back home that acted the same way when he’d come over to my house. It’s not a big deal, so we never made it one.” 

Silence settled over them until Keith decided he was done eating, setting the half empty box on the desk as well. He leaned against the wall, pulling his covers over his knees. 

“What’s it like where you live?”

Shiro’s caught off-guard by the question, letting it repeat in his head for a bit before he can piece together an answer. “Like a normal house, I guess. I lived with my mom in the suburbs of Japan. I was born here - well, not _here_ here, but you get what I mean - and she’d decided she wanted me growing up with family.” 

“Wait, so you speak Japanese?” He gave Keith a deadpan look before nodding. 

“Yes, Keith. I can speak Japanese.” 

“That’s really cool,” Keith says, head dropping to rest on his shoulder. 

“What about you? What’s it like where you’re from?” 

Keith’s silent. Minutes pass before he speaks again. “Fine, I guess. I live in a small town and went to school.” 

Shiro nodded, decided not to push him. “That’s cool. What was the town like?”

“I’m not really sure how to describe it? It’s like one of those cliché movie towns, I guess. We had a lot of hills and forest-like areas, so I went hiking a lot.”

Shiro opened his eyes to stare at him. He couldn’t imagine the lanky kid in front of him hiking. Running, yeah, but not hiking. “Do you like the outdoors?” 

Keith breathed, eyes distant as if remembering. “Yeah. I really, really do.” He let’s himself lay on his side, pulling the covers up to his chin. “My only regret about coming to the Garrison is that I don’t get to be with nature or sunlight. I’m so tired of fluorescent lights.” 

Shiro hummed in understanding. “You know, you can have someone come and check you out on weekends so you can go hiking. Once you get into your second year, you can check yourself out.”

Keith pulls the covers up higher. “I don’t have anyone to check me out.” 

“What about your parents?” 

Keith is silent again, giving Shiro a flat stare. It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to piece it together, the realization hitting him like a truck.

_Oh._

“Oh my god Keith, I’m _so_ sor-,” He stops when Keith waves him off with a hand, huffing a genuine laugh at him.

“It’s fine, Shiro. I don’t really care.” 

“You don’t?” 

Keith shrugs, the motion visible under the blanket. “I mean, it’s not ideal, but there’s not much I can do about it.” It’s quiet for a few minutes and he lets his eyelids droop closed. 

Shiro clears his throat. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

 _I do mind,_ Keith’s mind supplies quickly. His mouth offers a different answer, though. “I don’t know. My dad was there one day and the next he wasn’t. I never knew my mom and I don’t have any siblings, so they just sent me to the home in the next town over.” 

“How old were you?” 

Keith purses his lips together. He’s never been very good at remembering his childhood, since he tended to shove it down as far as he could. “Five, I think. I spent the better part of ten years in that orphanage.” 

“Why?” Shiro asked, eyebrows furrowed. Keith laughed. 

“No one wants to adopt a violent kid, Shiro. I ended up fine, so it’s fine.” 

“That really sucks, Keith.” He pauses. “So, were you never adopted?” 

Keith shakes his head slowly. “I was. Once, when I was six. I was back at the orphanage in less than three months, though.” His eyes cut to Shiro’s. “I was a really awful kid.” 

Shiro huffed before being silent for a long moment, both falling into the quiet air of the dorm. It was uncomfortable but couldn’t be labeled comfortable, bordering on the line of too much and too little when Shiro spoke again, “You know, I can check you out.” 

Keith sits up quickly. “Really?” 

“I mean, probably. If I just tell the front staff that you need to run to town and don’t have the uh, means to, I’m sure they’d let you go. Don’t take my word for it, though.” 

“Would you really do that?” Keith’s shuffling forward on the bed now, on his knees and almost eye level with Shiro. 

“Yeah, sure. We can go hiking or something, what ever you want.” 

Keith dissolves into a giddy pile on the bed, excitement written in the wide smile that breaks out on his face. It’s weird to see him so happy, if Shiro’s going to be honest, but it’s a good weird. He likes Keith’s smile. 

“This is the best day I’ve had since coming to the Garrison.” 

Shiro gives a mocking pout. “I thought your best day was when we met.” 

“You _wish.”_

“You’re so mean, Keith.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Keith lays back on the bed, black hair splaying around him. He’s not smiling, has more of a content, empty expression and air around him, staring up at the ceiling. He looks relaxed, and as much as Shiro wishes he’d smile again, he enjoys seeing this side of Keith as well. 

His lips pull into a soft frown, skirting his eyes away from Keith’s face and to the floor. He tells himself that it’s normal to want a friend to be happy, that the endearment he feels now is the same one he feels when talking to Matt. 

He’s broken from his thoughts when Keith rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. There both still for all of ten seconds before Keith pushes up from his bed. “I need to study,” he says, reaching past Shiro for his textbooks and letting them fall onto his bed. He doesn’t regard Shiro anymore as he opens his textbook, eyes reading over the words as if he wasn’t even there. 

The older teen rolls his eyes and props his feet up on the side of Keith’s bed before they’re shoved off. He matches Keith’s bewildered scowl. “What?” 

“You’re _not_ putting your shoes on my bed. Keep them on the floor or take them off.” 

Shiro grumbles, leaning over to unlace his boots. “You know, I wish you were still the angry but respectful kid I met in the hallway.” Keith lifted an eyebrow at him, turning the page in his book. 

“The same one who threw a punch at you?” 

Shiro shrugged. “Okay, so this Keith might be a _little_ better than that one, but still.” 

Keith scoffed. “Officer Shirogane, sir, you are a big baby,” he said, voice mixed with a mock respect. Shiro dropped his boots next to the chair and put his feet on the bed again, using one to kick at Keith’s knee, laughing when his face scrunched up in disgust. 

“I think _you’re_ the one acting like a baby here.”

“Feet are _disgusting._ ” 

Shiro rolled his eyes again and leaned back into the chair, turning his attention towards Keith’s desk. He started picking up random items, mostly pencils or finished assignments. He lets his mind drift easily and they sit for a while, Shiro reveling in his much needed daydreaming time and Keith studying. He thinks back to Keith’s words about the punch. He still feels bad about the amount of force he had used to calm Keith’s outburst, still thinks about that day often enough to keep him up wondering if Keith would accept his apology so late after the fact. It’s silly though, to worry so much about possibly hurting the kid that had tried to assault _him,_ but he had prided himself on being a level headed man who didn’t need to resort to violence to get his point across. 

Look where _that_ got him. A part of him had reached out due to the guilt he had felt instantly, feeling like he owed Keith for pinning him like that, so he decided to help him. Training with him, making sure he was fed properly, sitting in his dorm and watching him study. It’d taken less than a month of meeting this kid to unintentionally become his damn _mother_ in a way. 

As it is, he’s staring at Keith with a weird twist of fascination and worry in his gut. He stares at the thinness of his wrists and visible ankle, watches how the blue veins peak through his light skin and stay visible up his arms and down the top of his foot. He knows that Keith wasn’t that pale when first coming to the Garrison, his ID photo on his file showing that he actually had a slight tan, dark enough to be obvious but light enough that the fade into his current color easily went unnoticed by those around him. Not that Shiro was going through his file or anything; he had needed more information to fill out his report and thought it would be easier to look there instead of finding Keith. 

Still, it freaks him out how fragile Keith appears but how sturdy he actually is, now able to more or less hold his own in a fight with the punching bag. There’s power in his thin limbs, enough that Shiro doesn’t feel like he needs to worry when Keith is put in PT next year, a requirement for second years. Deep down, Shiro knows he doesn’t need to worry about him _at all,_ knows that Keith has and will continue to take care of himself, whether or not Shiro agrees with the means of it. He doesn’t enjoy seeing Keith looking tired and thin, hair always a mess and uniform looking rushed, and cutting himself off from others, but his grades and sim scores are good and he seems content with how life at the Garrison had played out previous to them meeting. 

Keith yawns, eyes squeezing shut as he buries his mouth into his elbow. He looks up at Shiro with hooded eyes, blinking twice before speaking. “Hey.” 

Shiro quirks a brow. “What?” Keith shrugs and closes his textbooks, dropping them on the ground next to his bed. 

“Do you mind, uh, leaving? Sorry, I’m really tired and don’t really want you in here while I sleep,” he says, eyes skirting to the side. Shiro sees his point, he thinks, but his mind is still reeling at being pulled from his thoughts. “We can hang out tomorrow or something, if you want.” 

Shiro nods slowly. “Okay.” 

He stands and slips on his boots, tucking the laces in instead of bothering to tie them. He gathers the boxes from their dinner and piles them onto the tray, watching as Keith stands to follow him to the door. He grins at him one last time, reaching out to ruffle his already mussed hair and calling out good night before he opens and shuts the door behind him.

He drops the trash off in the Union and walks around for a bit, nodding in acknowledgement at his fellow officers as he makes his way to the third year dorms out of habit. It’s pretty close to curfew, he realizes, shutting his door behind him. 

He takes a hot shower, thinking over his next assignment deadlines and what classes he’ll be sitting in on starting tomorrow. There were a few second year courses that he sometimes made an appearance, along with third year. He’s been sitting in Keith’s physics class for most the year, partly because he enjoys physics and partly because he enjoys the teacher. His only class he is required to be in is his flight class where he stands on the observation deck. They had mentioned moving him down to actually engaging with students after winter break, when all would be prepping for exams and the eventual placement of fighter or cargo, so he could act as an aide during a meeting he had with the instructors. 

They were grooming he to become an instructor, the first year physics professor had told him. 

He didn’t want to become an instructor, though. He was a pilot, through and through, and wanted to remain that way until he died. He never argued against what they were doing though, his mind supplying that becoming an important member of the Garrison was an honor no matter what position he held. 

He shuts the water off, drying off quickly before pulling a pair of sweatpants on. He closes his bathroom door and crosses the room, shutting off the lights. He fumbles with his blankets for a minute before finding the remote, turning the TV on one of the music channels and chucking it to the side after adjusting the volume to low. He settles under the blankets, falling asleep to buzz of lofi hip-hop and the smell of clean linen.


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith learns just how bad he is at taking care of himself when he gets sick but still refuses to admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo sorry for being dead for a bit, all my teachers decided it'd be nice to kill me with assignments this past week
> 
> enjoy, you babes

A week and a half after eating with Shiro in his room, Keith wakes up in a mood.

Sadly, this wasn’t uncommon. 

The mood left him irritable all day, throwing extra glares at people who bumped into him in the hall and mumbling out his frustrations without a care. If he wasn’t deemed the bitchy first year before, he _definitely_ was now. 

He didn’t care though. Couldn’t find the will to care actually, not when he was busy trying to steer his mind away from the tempting idea of mauling the kid standing next to him in flight class that was loudly mouth breathing. Seriously, _come on._ Keith stood in the back of class for a reason, shit for brains. Get the fuck away. 

It didn’t help that he wasn’t picked for the sim today, being passed up for some other kid that crashed three minutes in. It’s okay though. Keith is pretty sure that going in the sim like this would only cause him to get annoyed at his crews chatter and quickly turn his time in the sim from relaxing to a burden and he did _not_ want that. So he took his free time to brood. More than usual, that is. 

He’s even more pissed when his mood turns his own stomach against him. He’s not going to throw up, that he’s sure of, but the continuous cramps he feels while he sits in his room during dinner refuse to let up. 

He wants nothing more than to make his way to the gym with Shiro, to burn off whatever has decided to torture him today until only burnt skin rests in it’s place. He’s gotten better about showing up often, not missing a night of practice since Shiro had shown up outside his door. He goes more for the distraction that Shiro’s idle conversation and teaching offers than the actual want to learn self-defense. That doesn’t stop his chest from filling with pride when he catches a glance of himself in the bathroom mirrors and sees that he’s starting to fill out the arms and shoulders of his uniform, even if it’s a barely visible and miniscule change. 

His chest doesn’t fill with pride at the way his mood makes him feel. He feels weak and inconspicuous and empty, which is silly because since when had he felt full? 

He shuts the lights off and crumples himself in a ball with his blankets pulled over his face, grumbling his irritation with life to the empty room before he eventually falls into a restless sleep. 

xxx

It’s almost four a.m. when Keith wakes up, stomach twisting painfully, brain unbearably pounding against his temple, body going through fits of hot and cold. He tosses his blankets off of himself and stands quickly only to fall back to the bed, nausea filling him as his eyesight flies around the room. He pulls himself up again, walking the few steps to the door to pull it open quickly, leaving it cracked behind him as he stumbles towards the bathroom. He feels his stomach lurch at his sudden movements and pushes his hand against his mouth. 

He is _not_ going to empty his stomach contents in the hallway. He repeats this to himself, shoving open the bathroom door. It seems to have worked, his stomach obeying long enough for him to push into a stall. His hands grip the sides desperately as he throws up, body shaking and knuckles turning white as he heaves. He hasn’t been sick in so long that he’d forgotten the burn on the back of his throat and how raw he always feels afterwards. 

He hasn’t eaten all day so it’s mostly water. He’s breathing hard afterwards and his body slumps with exhaustion against the side of the stall, letting his fingers card through his hair in an attempt to sooth the burn he can feel on his forehead. He hears it then, the soft pacing sound before someone calls out, “Hello, cadet? Are you okay now?” before peeking around the stall door. 

It’s one of the night guards. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he takes in Keith’s slumped form, trying to make eye contact that Keith refuses by burying his face into his shoulder. He reaches out a shaky hand to flush the toilet before using it and the stall wall to shakily pull himself up, standing with unsteady legs and leaning most of his weight against it. He finally makes eye contact with the guard which pulled a sigh out of him before be slowly reached out to grab Keith by his arm, using the grip to steer him. He resisted at first, but one step back told him that he wasn’t going to be able to walk straight without help until he stopped shaking. 

He reluctantly allowed the guard to lead him out of the bathroom, brows furrowing as they passed his dorm room. “Hey, my room-,” he started quietly, but the guard talked over him into a communicator.

“Prepare a room in the med wing, we have a sick first year,” he spoke with a more commanding voice before looking at Keith, letting his finger slip off the microphone button. “Sorry, but we can’t have you getting your roommate and other cadets sick. You’ll stay in the med wing until your fever goes down, okay?” Keith wants to protest, but the idea of not feeling like _this_ convinced him to nod dumbly as they walked slowly through the halls.

Keith was dragging his feet by the time they made it to the med wing. He was ushered inside to be greeted by the nurse, a middle aged man who gestured for the guard to bring Keith into one of the sectioned off rooms that had curtains instead of walls. He helped Keith onto the bed before disappearing and he took that time to lay back and pull the blankets around his shivering body. 

He’d been in a hospital countless times before. Mostly from small fights or accidents that had gotten him some cuts that required stitches, and the time when he was seven and one of the older kids pushed him off the banister he was sitting on and broke his wrist trying to catch his fall. The bed’s here feel just like the bed’s in the emergency room section of the hospital, thin mattress that isn’t comfortable but isn’t uncomfortable. He doesn’t bother to keep his eyes open as he lies there, choosing to ignore the nurse and guard who are talking about him just outside the curtain. The nurse pulls the privacy curtain to the side and gives Keith a thin, tired smile. He realizes this probably waked him up, too. 

“Hello,” he says, already moving to the small movable rectangle that resembles a small filing cabinet with drawers next to the bed and pulling out bottles. Keith opens his eyes just enough to see the labels. They’re all drugstore, which makes sense because leaving the heavy stuff next to an unattended cadet _probably_ isn’t a good idea. On top of the shelf is what looks like a file and Keith watches him flip it open, realizing it’s his file. 

The nurse’s eyes are trained on where his physical characteristics are listed, glancing back at Keith before looking at it again. He sighs, opens a bottle and let’s one capsule fall into the palm of his hand. He grabs a small cup and fills it with water before holding both out to Keith, who reaches for it. 

Keith brushes off how eerily similar this feels in relation to when he lived at the orphanage. Tired, silent workers offering medicine and water before returning to whatever they had been doing before. Which is exactly what the nurse does, after telling Keith to try and sleep and that he’ll be back to check on him in a bit. 

Keith manages another restless three hours of sleep, alternating between pulling his sheets around his curled up body and throwing them as far from himself as he can. The nurse comes back into the room around seven-forty, humming softly as he rummages through things on the other side of Keith’s curtain. He leaves, the door falling shut behind him loudly, returns less than ten minutes later. The curtains pulled aside in one brief swoop, the nurse presenting a tray with various fruits and breakfast foods on them. Keith fights back the urge to turn his nose up at them. 

“Good morning, Keith,” he says, setting the stray on top of the medicine cabinet. “My name is Lucas. I’m going to take your temperature real quick and then you can eat.” Keith’s almost surprised by the relaxed tone he has as he pulls open the bottom drawer of the cabinet and pulls out a thermometer. Keith’s usual experience with nurses usually involves a sickly-sweet voice that makes him feel talked down to, but he speaks to Keith like normal. Like an equal. 

He felt light. _Equal._  

The nurse stuck the electric thermometer under his tongue, holding it there until it beeped. He pulled back while glancing at the number, clicking the button that made the cover of disposable plastic they use to keep it sanitary fall into the trash. “You have a fever, so we’ll keep you until it goes down. Is anything else troubling you besides your head and stomach? The guard said you were throwing up when he found you.” Keith shakes his head, slowly pulling his knees up to his chest. The nurse just nods and motions to the tray, “I didn’t know what you’d like, obviously, so I just grabbed some fruit and pastries. Go slow so you don’t upset your stomach more, but we need to get food in you. I’ll be back in a little bit, so go ahead and eat.” He pulled back the curtain, leaving Keith alone. 

He absentmindedly ate some of the fruit, not really interested in eating as much as he was sleeping. He managed to eat most of the fruit, leaving the pastries because he wasn’t sure what was what and didn’t feel like getting a surprise right now. He curled back onto the bed, eyeing when the curtain split for easy access. 

The nurse returned eventually, moving the tray somewhere outside his room before returning with his file. “Okay Keith, I know you might not feel up to it but I’m going to update some information on your file and do a small check up. I’m going to check height, weight, blood pressure, and a few other routine checks.” Keith nodded and allowed him to help him out of the bed, noticing the thin pair of slippers set out by the side of the bed. He slipped his feet into them and followed him out of the room he had been in to what looked like an examination room. He checked Keith’s blood pressure, vision, and reflexes first. It felt like the physical he had to take to participate in track the year before he left for the Garrison. 

Next he stood against a ruler on the wall only to be told that he’d grown less than a centimeter since coming here. He stepped on the scale to check weight, brows furrowing at the number that appeared. “How…?”

The nurse peered at the new number and what was listed on his sheet. “Are you in any PT courses? Do you work out on your own?” 

“Uh, I work out sometimes…” 

“Are you eating right?” He asks, continuing to glance between the numbers before finally jotting the new one down. “That’s the only reason I can think for you to have dropped from a hundred and twenty to a hundred and seven so fast.” He glanced up at Keith to give him his full attention, expecting an answer. 

Keith felt his face flush slightly in embarrassment before shrugging. “I don’t get hungry that much.” 

The nurse sighed and helped Keith back to his room, giving him a mini speech the entire way. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t let your body starve itself of nutrients; you can’t function right like that. It’s not healthy for a boy your age and height to weigh as little as you do. Once you’re feeling better, I’m going to require you to come back for monthly check ups to keep you in healthy.” He stops short of the bed, turning to stare at Keith. “Are you not eating on purpose?” 

Keith tries not to gape at the absurdity of the question. He’s not trying to _starve_ himself; he’s just not that hungry. Plus, the Garrison has a weak food selection for a picky eater. “ _No._ I’m not…” Keith does a gesture with his hands, scowling in embarrassment when it’s obviously not picked up. He turns to look away and stares at the tile flooring. 

The nurse hums. “Get some more rest. I’ll be back later to check your fever and bring lunch, okay? This conversation isn’t over, though.” 

Keith nods and slips back into the bed, turning to face opposite of where the nurse is. 

xxx 

He wakes up sometime later, mind groggy and pounding against his temple. He groans as he rolls onto his back, hands coming up to put pressure on his eyes. His face is burning up but his body is shivering slightly, knees knocking against each other softly. He feels miserable, more so than before he went to sleep again. 

It doesn’t surprise him how long it takes him to notice the soft hum of talking, parts of words floating to his brain but unable to form a sentence. He tries to push himself off the bed and the creaking of the frame must have given him away since the curtain is ripped aside seconds later. 

The nurse is standing in the small path with the curtain still bundled up in his hand. Shiro stands beside him, eyebrow lifting in interest as he takes in Keith’s situation. 

Keith tries not to blanch. Some part of him appreciates Shiro coming to check on him, but that part is buried deep bellow the part of him that’s disgusted about being seen like this. He’s not the most put together person but even he’s embarrassed at being seen in his sleep shirt, boxers, and crazy hair that’s the result of sweating throughout his sleep. He feels disgusting and wonders if the nurse would let him take a shower. 

“Hello, Keith,” the nurse says after finishing whatever he was saying to Shiro. “I’m going to check your temperature real quick then grab you something to eat, okay?” He grabs the electronic thermometer again and sticks it under Keith’s tongue before talking again. “Officer Shirogane came to see if you were feeling okay. He said he was an aide for some of your class?” Keith nods his head once, the thermometer poking into his tongue. “He’s going to sit with you while I run to the Union. If you need water or anything just ask, got it?” He pulls the thermometer out of Keith’s mouth and the latter slumps against the thin metal headboard to the bed, watching him read the numbers on the screen. He huffs and throws the plastic slip away before turning towards Shiro, catching him by his arm. “If he starts throwing up, there’s a trash can by his bed and a bathroom through that door,” he points towards the left but Keith doesn’t bother to follow his hand, “Don’t worry about cleaning anything up.” 

He’s gone after that, shoving the curtain aside and disappearing out of the med wing door. Shiro watches him leave before turning back to Keith. He walks around the bed and pulls out the small chair tucked under the bed and falls back into it, matching stares with Keith. 

He huffs. “Why are you here?” 

Shiro shrugs, not put off by Keith’s obvious annoyance. “I figured it was better than spending my afternoon in for classes I don’t what to be in. I asked for the professors if I could take a day of observation and they said sure.” 

Keith scowls at him. “That’s stupid. I don’t need you to watch over me.” Shiro hums.

“I know.”

They sit in silence, Keith slowly letting himself inch down into a laying position again. His stomach is churning again and his eyesight is fuzzy from sleep, head leaning against his shoulder. He’s almost asleep again when Shiro starts talking. 

“Iverson said I’m in good standing to be picked for an upcoming mission,” he says, catching Keith’s attention. His eyes cut to Keith. “Iverson is the second year flight instructor; you’ll have him next year.” 

Keith blinks. “That’s really cool.” He tries to keep the awe out of his voice as he stares at the easy smile Shiro gives him. 

“Yeah. Don’t go telling anyone though, they haven’t announced any mission yet so it’s still a secret.” Keith nods and looks forward again. He tries to imagine Shiro on a mission, piloting and communicating with his crew with more ease than Keith could ever manage to. He imagines himself piloting too, letting the two thoughts form one. He could be Shiro’s co-pilot, could travel the universe and move through the stars by his side. 

His next words come out before he can stop himself. “Maybe I can fly with you.” 

He flinches at Shiro’s laugh, expecting to be shot down. Shiro reaches out a hand and ruffles Keith’s hair. “Maybe. I think you’ll need to gain a few pounds though, I don’t think it’s safe to send some skinny kid into space.” 

Keith huffs and shoves Shiro’s hand away. “The nurse told you, didn’t he?” Shiro chuckles. 

“What, that you’ve lost thirteen pounds? Yeah, but it would’ve been pretty obvious anyways.” Shiro puts his feet on the end of the bed, ignoring Keith’s whine of protest. “I told him you have no sense of self-preservation and I’ll watch to make sure you eat right and he dropped it. He’s still going to make you do weigh-ins, though.” 

Keith let’s his head drop against the headboard. “This is _stupid._ I could be in class right now.” 

“You could also _not_ be sick. Quit whining, you’re lucky you get such good treatment for free.” 

Keith crosses his arms. “I’m not whining.” 

Shiro rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh.”

Keith slams his hand on the mattress, soft material letting out a thump as he glares down at Shiro. “I’m not!”

He laughs, holding his hands up in surrender as Keith reaches down to shove his feet off the bed. “Okay, cool it hot-shot. Good to see that you still have a temper, even when sick.” Keith’s scowl deepens.

“You’re the worst.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

The med bay door opens a few minutes later, interrupting the tense silence. The nurse walks through holding a tray, eyeing Keith’s expression and giving a pointed look towards Shiro. Shiro shrugs.

He shrugs back, setting the tray on top of the medicine cabinet. “I got the cooks to make some soup for you. Call if you need anything.” He turns to Shiro. “He still needs rest, so don’t stay too long, okay?” 

Shiro give a thin smile. “Okay.” 

The curtain falls shut behind him again and Keith groans. “I want to go back to my room.” 

Shiro snorts and ducks his head. “Maybe if you eat and sleep and took care of yourself in the first place you wouldn’t be here.” 

Keith scrunches his face up at him. “I take care of myself just fine, asshole.” 

It’s Shiro’s turn to frown. “Don’t cuss.” 

Keith rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Anyways, you’re the one who said I ‘seem fine enough’, remember?” Keith picks at one of his nails as Shiro thinks back. 

“Nope. No memory of it. You’re lying.” Keith whips his head around to retort only to be met with Shiro grinning widely at him. He growls and crosses his arms, muttering a “not funny” as Shiro rises out of his chair.

“Hey-where are you going?” he says quickly, slightly panicked tone forcing it’s way into his voice. Shiro lifts an eyebrow and keeps eye contact as he walks around the bed, making his way to the tray of food. “That’s mine,” Keith points out. He’s not sure why because he doesn’t _actually_ want it. He feels the same as he did when Shiro had tried to take his Chinese food not too long ago. 

Shiro shrugs. “You’re not going to eat it, right? So I’ll just take it.” 

Keith knows what he’s doing. He’s seen caretakers and therapists and teachers do it for years and he wants to not fall for it, want’s to refuse, but Keith’s mouth has always worked quicker than his mind. “I’ll eat it.” He cringes instantly at his words and groans, letting his head fall against the headboard again as Shiro laughs in victory. He’s going to get brain damage from how exasperated Shiro makes him feel. 

“I really didn’t expect that to work,” he says and lifts the tray, settling it on Keith’s lap. “It does look good though, so if you end up not liking it I’ll take it.”

Keith shoves him away as he grumbles, grabbing the spoon more out of spite than actual want. He rolls his eyes before going to take a bite, then another and another. He avoids looking at Shiro as he eats because he knows he’s grinning, can feel it from where he sits. 

He sets the tray on the medical cabinet when he finishes and glares at Shiro. “Happy now?” 

Shiro grabs the tray and quickly ruffles Keith’s hair again, barely evading the hand that snaps out to smack his arm. “Sure am. Now get some sleep.” He leaves through the curtain again and Keith’s lip twitches. He settles into the bed again, letting sleep wash over him. 

xxx 

He wakes up a few hours later to see Shiro sitting in the chair, head leaned against his shoulder and chest rising and falling with quiet breaths. He smiles thinly at the image, letting his eyes fall shut again.


	8. eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith learns the meaning of christmas and takes a lot of naps. cue christmas music despite it being may.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh my god I'm so sorry for being dead for like, two weeks
> 
> good thing is that I only have two weeks left of school and I know I said I wanted this done before summer but I think it's fine tbh. this chapter took so long because I was dying in band/dance practice and had like, three overdue projects to finish haha. plus I really wanted this chapter to be over six thousand words and boy I did it so enjoy~

A few months pass and Keith finds himself in his room, tucking his belongings into his backpack.

He lived through the annoying weigh-ins and managed to get up to one-fourteen under Shiro’s watchful (annoying) gaze. It’s bearable though, especially when Shiro and him keep doing training when they can. Keith can feel his muscles growing under the lines of his uniform and it’s more satisfying than he lets on. 

Keith spends more time in Shiro’s room than his own lately. Afternoons are spent in the gym or Shiro’s, watching him type out reports and essays or flipping through news channels and old movies he only halfway watches while he studies. They talk a lot and Keith eventually convinces Shiro to sneak him into the greenhouse after one of his weigh-ins. 

He had seen Shiro trying not to laugh as Keith’s expression lit up upon seeing it. It looked like a mini garden and smelled like it too and Keith couldn’t help himself from running form plant to plant. They had eventually settled under one of the trees in the corner while Keith ate what the nurse had planned for him. 

They frequent the greenhouse during meals, more so when Shiro had switched with his friend from monitor. Keith is almost thrown off how easy it is to be in Shiro’s company when he’d spent years trying to be away from others as much as possible. 

He’s still trying to not be thrown off at the feeling settled in the pit of his stomach at being separated from that company for the next three weeks. He’d managed to pass his first semester with perfect grades but the sense of accomplishment he feels doesn’t wash away the dread that fills him when he thinks about leaving for holiday break. He’s scheduled to leave the next day and already has the money he needs to get back to the orphanage. His roommate had left the day the semester ended on Wednesday, Keith choosing to wait for the weekend before he left on the day they had been told every cadet had to be out. 

It still doesn’t feel like the first semester had passed already as he folds his few clothes he brought with him. He remembers it feeling unbearably long in the beginning but it seems like everything has happened in a flash since he’d met Shiro. He came to the Garrison to make something of himself and ended up making a friend. 

He places his knife in the bottom of his backpack and covers it with his clothes and toiletries, managing enough space to shove a folder full of notes and a textbook inside as well. He places his bag at the bottom of his bed and sits down, staring at the empty dorm. It’s different not seeing piles of paperwork over the desk or textbooks lying forgotten on the ground. His roommate had taken his photos and posters with him when he’d left, leaving the wall opposite Keith barren of the life that was once there. It feels odd, uncomfortable to be in here alone.

There’s a knock on Keith’s door and he knows who it is long before he opens it. Shiro smiles down at him, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey, Keith,” he starts, “Union is basically empty; want to grab dinner?” Keith sighs before nodding, trying to not let his eagerness show as he follows behind Shiro. 

It’d been a few days since they had last been able to see each other and without the distraction his classes give him, Keith had been completely and utterly bored. He really hadn’t realized how much of his time was devoted to Shiro until he wasn’t around, leaving Keith to take naps or study for subjects his professors hadn’t covered yet. He tried to sneak into the greenhouse alone the day before but his nerve died halfway down the main hallway. He could’ve done it, now that he thinks about it. The guards on patrol had been cut back significantly, now more rare to see one than to not. He’d gotten away with multiple two a.m. showers in the past four days and had even gone for a walk around out of boredom one night. 

But now Keith has a reason to not be bored because he gets to hang out with Shiro, again. Before he leaves… 

They enter the Union and Shiro is true to his word; there’s less than twenty kids occupying the space, all spread out and eating silently or in small groups. Shiro starts talking as they make start putting food on their trays. “Sorry I’ve been MIA lately, I’ve been finishing my work for the semester and helping out some professors grade things. I’ve also been sleeping a lot, but that’s because I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in God knows how long. What have you been doing since the semester ended?” Shiro talks animatedly as he sets his tray on the table furthest from all others in the room, settling into his chair as Keith puts his tray down. 

He shrugs. “Same as usual, really. I’ve been sleeping too,” he says. He starts to eat, slower than he has been so he can focus on Shiro as he talks. 

Shiro lets out a bark of laughter. Keith isn’t sure what was funny. “Yeah, sleep is good. It’s good that you’re taking care of yourself too.” He takes a bite of his own food, chewing silently before swallowing. “So, any plans for holiday?”

Keith’s chest grows tight but he powers through it, popping a grape into his mouth. “Not really. I’ll probably get a job or something and help out around the orphanage. You?” 

“I’m flying home to visit my mom and family. The only thing I’ve planned so far is to celebrate New Years with some old friends.” They settle into silence then, Shiro eating much too quickly for Keith to keep up. He adverts his eyes when he finishes, knowing Keith doesn’t like to be stared at when he eats. “This place sure did clear out fast. This is the latest I’ve ever stayed during break.”

“Why did you stay late this time?” Keith asks, finishing his last grape and moving to stand. Shiro follows him.

“I booked my flight late. Only available one was for tomorrow morning.” 

“I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon.” 

They drop off their trays and Shiro grins at him. “You can see me off then!” Keith snorts and crosses his arms as they leave the Union.

“And why would I want to do that?”

Shiro gives a fake scowl. “Hey, don’t be an ass. It’s an honor to get to hang out with me.” Keith rolls his eyes again. “Whatever, you little punk. Want to hang out?”

“Sure,” Keith says, already walking towards the third year wing. They usually hang out in his dorm after dinner, Keith thinks as he tries to talk it up to habit and not hope.

Shiro changes when they get back to his dorm, pulling a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase and disappearing into the bathroom. Since classes aren’t in session, remaining cadets can wear their casual clothes, leaving Keith in old joggers he’d gotten from another kid at the orphanage a little before he left and some graphic tee shirt he’s had for years, the logo across the breast nearly rubbed off from being washed so much. Shiro had taken to wearing jeans, apparently, if the unfolded pile of laundry on the ends of the bed means anything. It’s mostly plain tee shirts and jeans, sitting next to the open suitcase like he was in the middle of putting them away and had gotten distracted. 

Keith slips off his shoes and climbs into the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers and effectively making a cocoon. He thought that his weight gain would help with him being constantly freezing but apparently not, if Shiro’s laugh when he had expressed that thought was anything to go off of. The Garrison was too damn cold for his liking and it made him annoyed, which was what he had repeated as his reason for kicking Shiro in the shin midway through his laugh. 

Shiro reappeared from the bathroom minutes later, jeans he had been wearing folded in his hand. He placed them inside the suitcase, lifting an eyebrow at Keith as he started to fold the pile of clothes. “Comfy?” 

“Hell _yes_ ,” Keith sighs in response, pulling the covers further around his face. He watches Shiro’s profile as he folds the rest of the pile, arranging the clothes before disappearing back into his bathroom. He returns with his toothbrush, hairbrush, and shampoo. Keith tries to catch a glimpse of what the label of the shampoo bottle says, wants to see if it smells like vanilla and cinnamon like his sheets do. Keith breathes in deeply, closing his eyes and relaxing into the sheets. 

Shiro continues to gather his things, slowly packing items from his desk and drawers into a carry on bag and putting a pair of tennis shoes into his suitcase as well. Keith doesn’t open his eyes again, but he can feel Shiro move around the room, hear his feet on the cold ground. He leans over Keith at one point to grab the remotes on the other side of him, stomach pressing against Keith’s back. He can feel his heat through the blankets and he’s grateful for the layer between them that forces his hands to stay to himself.

He lets his eyes slowly open as Shiro sits at the foot of the bed, fiddling with the remotes before turning the TV on. The light from the TV casts shadows against the dim lit room ( _My light bulbs are going out,_ he had said one night after training), illuminating the sides of Shiro who sits directly in front of Keith. He looks so far away like this, like he’s already left Keith for break or an unnamed mission that puts them in separate galaxies and he _knows_ he shouldn’t, but he feels himself shuffle out of the cocoon anyways. He sits a little behind Shiro, close enough for his arm to brush Keith’s chest every now and then as he watches a late night talk show. Shiro doesn’t say anything, leans slightly to the side to knock Keith’s chin lightly with his shoulder. He rests his chin on it slowly, front of his chest pressed against part of Shiro’s back and arm as they watch the host joke with the audience. Keith feels his eyes drooping slowly with the mixture of background noise and warmth, rolling his head slightly to press his cheek into Shiro’s shoulder.

He knows he’s too close already, that the contact was pushing boundaries a bit, _knows_ that the one thing that would make the situation worse is exactly what he’s doing. He tries to keep himself awake, he really does; he finds himself blinking awake with a start a multitude of times before his hazy brain convinces his limbs and muscles that this is good, this is what’s best. Months ago Keith would never imagine falling asleep on Shiro’s shoulder while watching TV in his room and the part of his brain that he tries to silence whisper that _maybe this is best._  

xxx 

Life flies into motion the second Keith’s eyes open the next morning.

He wakes up in Shiro’s bed, back pressing against the side of Shiro’s hip and blankets tucked around him. He glances to the side, sees Shiro’s profile watching the morning news as he fiddles with his phone, sending texts and checking emails. The room is quiet and calming, so much that he almost forgets that he fell asleep in a superior officers dorm the night before. 

He mind reels with questions he has no answers for, like _did he sleep next to me?_ and _is he annoyed that I stayed here?_ Keith doesn’t want to ask either, wants to avoid the situation as best he can without moving from the warm safety that the bed provides. It’s minutes later when Shiro shuffles off the bed and disappears into the bathroom, grabbing clothes on his way in. The shower starts and stops too fast, Keith thinks, Shiro returning in what seems like seconds with a towel wrapped around his bare shoulders and jeans brushing against the floor. He catches Keith’s eye and grins at him, walking over to his desk. 

“Sleep well?” he asks, voice too clear and light for how early it feels. Keith grumbles out what sounds enough like a ‘yes’ to pass, pulling the blankets tighter around him. Shiro sneaks a glance over his shoulder, not pausing whatever it is his hands are doing. “Are you going to see me off today?” 

Keith looks away. “Why should I?” 

Shiro laughs. It’s too loud in the dark room. “Come on, don’t be stubborn. You owe me for not kicking you out last night.” 

His gut clenches. It takes pressing his teeth into a thin line to not bark out a retort that’s likely to get him kicked out. “Okay,” he finally says, closing his eyes. 

“Hey now.” Shiro throws his wet towel at Keith’s head, effectively making the teen jump up. “No falling back asleep. If you’re going to see me off, go take a shower and get ready.” 

Keith glances slowly at the door before sliding out of the bed, shivering when his bare feet make contact with the floor. He starts to walk towards it before Shiro’s voice stops him. “What are you doing? The bathroom is that door.” Keith follows his pointed hand and furrows his brows. 

“I get to use your bathroom?” 

Shiro mirrors his expression. “Yeah? There’s no point in going all the way back to the first year wing, unless you want to.” 

Keith’s mind short circuits for a moment before he stutters out an, “O-okay,” quickly walking towards the door. He opens and closes it behind him fast, hoping to cut off the bark of Shiro’s laughter that follows him. 

Even though he’s spent so much time in Shiro’s room lately, Keith steps foot in the bathroom for the first time now. It’s cleaner than he imagined, what hasn’t been packed neatly lined up against the counter of the sink. He’s been in a hotel room once, when his school took a trip when he was thirteen, and the bathroom resembles the one in his room. He finds a towel under the sink after poking around a bit before he goes to the shower. When he pulls away the curtain it looks identical to the communal showers in the first year wing. He messes with the water temperature before he sets his towel on the toilet seat. 

A shiver of discomfort runs down his spine as he slowly lifts the hem of his tee shirt. It feels too odd to be getting undressed in Shiro’s bathroom for a multitude of reasons, the most prevalent one being that the man is currently _right there._ Keith knows his reasoning is dumb, knows that he’s changed and showered next to others many times but after the past few months of waiting for the showers to empty and until his roommate left to get ready for classes, Keith has grown body-shy. 

He tries to shrug it off the best he can as he shucks his clothes quickly, stepping into the shower and letting out a sigh as the hot water bounces off the skin of his back. He sits there for a bit before grabbing at a bottle of shampoo Shiro had left and pours a generous amount into his hands. It leaves his hair softer than the Garrison-issued shampoo does and _yes,_ it does leave the heavy smell of cinnamon and vanilla behind long after it’s washed out. 

He spends more time than he needs to letting the water run over his skin until he turns it off and grabs his towel. He gets dressed again and wraps the towel around his shoulders, lightly drying his hair first. Little droplets run down the sides of his neck and into his shirt, some falling and catching on the towel. He slowly steps out of the shower and Shiro is at his desk, reading what looks like reports. He looks up, grinning at him.

“Took you long enough,” he says and pushes his chair back, standing to walk over. He’s fully dressed now, shoes, coat and all. He scowls at the water droplet that drops off a strand of hair to run down his face and grabs the towel off his shoulders. Before he can protest, Shiro is using the towel to quickly and roughly dry his hair.

“Hey- stop!” Keith yells, reaching out a hand and slapping at his arm with no force. Shiro just laughs, giving one last shake of the towel before throwing it in a laundry basket right inside the bathroom door. 

“Don’t be a baby,” he says, ignoring how Keith bristles at the insult, “You’ll get a cold walking through the Garrison like that.” Keith sniffs and looks away. 

“Says you.”

“Says _doctors._ ” 

Keith rolls his eyes and grabs his shoes, jumping slightly to sit on the bed as he pulls them on. He glances back to see Shiro rummaging through his closet before a soft, black jacket is tossed to him.

“Here,” he says, “There’s no point in running back to your room to get a jacket. Just hold onto that and I’ll get it when I come back.” Keith stares at the material before he slips it on. It must be old because it’s only slightly loose on him and fills Keith’s head with ideas of what Shiro looked like when it fit _him._

Keith shakes his head slightly when all he gets is shorter versions of the person standing in front of him now and slides off the bed, watching Shiro grab his suitcase and start to wheel it to the door. He locks his dorm and they walk in silence to the front gate, Shiro humming softly as if he doesn’t notice the tense energy flowing off of Keith’s person. 

He turns abruptly, about a hallway away from the gate, and stares into Keith’s eyes. He jumps slightly, matching his gaze. 

“Don’t cause trouble while I’m gone, okay?” 

Keith’s shoulders slump immediately, tense replaced with exasperation. “You’re not my parent, Shiro.” He laughs. 

“You know what I mean.” They stand in silence for a second. “I’ll be back soon. I hope you have fun during your time off.” He reaches out and slowly pulls Keith into the most awkward side hug he’d ever been a part of. He appreciates it though, appreciates that he moves slowly so that Keith can pull away if he wants and that he keeps it loose for the exact same reason. Keith reaches up and gingerly rests his hand on his back before he pulls away with a grin.

“See you later, Keith,” he says, smiling widely and waving before he turns away and walks out the gate. Keith doesn’t register himself waving, or the small smile that spreads across his face.

xxx 

Keith goes through the torture of sitting on a bus for the majority of his day, glaring at passengers as they enter the bus to ensure that he keeps the area around himself as empty as he can. It’s well past ten p.m. when his last bus drops him off in the town he’d spent most of his life in, worn out shows hitting the pavement of the station. The orphanage is close enough he can walk and the town is small enough that he feels safe doing so, the added muscle he’s developed giving him a bit of a confidence boost. 

He knocks on the front door of the home when he finds it’s locked, pulls the jacket tighter around him to block out the bite of the wind on his cheeks and neck. It finally opens, revealing one of the workers who smiles thinly at him, eyes dropped in exhaustion. “Hey, kiddo. Your room is the same, you can head up.” He nods at her, walking up the stairs and down the long hallway, ignoring the laughter and yelling coming from some of the rooms. When he’d called and told one of the workers when he was coming home they’d informed him that school here still had another week of classes and that the Garrison was ‘nice to give you kids a damn break’. He didn’t know how to respond so he said yeah, which made the woman laugh. 

He pushes open the door to his room. The image hits him with a slap of nostalgia, stomach twisting and head spinning. It looks exactly like it had before he left, which is rare since the orphanage is always trying to separate kids and get them their own rooms to decrease arguing and fights over arrangements. Keith had only managed to get a room alone since he’d been there so long, longer than almost every other kid.

He drops his bag on the floor next to his bed and locks his bedroom door. He walks around the room for a bit, the familiar creaking of wood under his feet sounding foreign after months of walking across concrete. He brushes his hands over the walls and few pieces of furniture, opening his old dresser and seeing everything he’d left behind. He pulls out an old pair of sweatpants and changes, sits on his bed and begins to dump his belongings out on the floor. He puts up what he deems important, leaves his clothes he’d brought in a crumpled mess on the floor and grabs his knife, running fingers over the hilt before he gets up and shuts off the light, curling on his bed with it still in his grasp. 

xxx 

He wakes up around ten the next day, sun lighting up his room through the dirty window. His chest feels empty at the silence that fills the floor. He knows most kids are at school; the ones too young are downstairs with the workers. He wants to stay in his room, ignore all other life and let break pass him quickly so he can get back to school.

His stomach grumbles though and the thought of making food for himself that he actually enjoys is far more tempting than not. He appreciates the effort the Garrison chefs put into the meals, but nothing is the same as his easy access to the kitchen and ability to make exactly what he wants. 

He gets dressed and passes a few workers on his way down to the kitchen, all offering smiles as they clean or gather up toddlers. He makes himself a late breakfast and sits at the small kitchen island as he eats. 

He’s thinking about all the places that would hire a teenager home on holiday break for three weeks when one of the workers, a woman named Abby, walks in. She’s been around for a few years, started fresh out of college with the intent of it being a summer job and never leaving. She’d been the one who’d always helped Keith with homework when he needed it and helped him sneak out when the large building felt far too suffocating. 

She opens the cabinet and grabs a glass, fills it with water from the fridge and leans against the counter. She eyes him as he finishes eating before she talks. “So, how is it being a fancy space man now?” She asks, reaching up to brush a black curl from her face. She shakes her hand to get the sleeve of her sweatshirt to lower as she starts to clean up the countertops. 

“Fine,” Keith says, watching her. 

“Fine? Is it as good as you thought it’d be?”

Keith ponders her question. He thinks about the endless hours studying, his achievements as a first year pilot, his weigh-ins, thinks about the warm smile he sees thrown at him after long workouts or between study sessions. “Some parts are. Some aren’t.” 

She laughs and turns back towards him. “Welcome to life, my friend. So, any idea what you’re going to do for the next three weeks? Will you finally be joining up for Holiday celebrations?” The orphanage is full of so kids who grew up on different traditions that they celebrate Holiday instead of Christmas or Hanukkah or any other, compiling different parts of each to make Holiday. Keith and a few other kids typically stay away from it, choosing to hang out in their room or in town instead of with the excited children. 

“Haven’t decided yet. I was thinking about getting a job.” 

“Ahh,” she says, “I think the gas station on the edge of town is hiring. They’re probably the only one that’ll hire some kid for three weeks.” 

Keith stands and sets his plate in the sink and runs water over it. “I’ll stop by later today to check.” 

“Of course,” she pushes away from the counter, leaving her cup. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I can hear a kid screaming.” He waves goodbye to her before going up to his room to grab the jacket Shiro gave him and his shoes. 

xxx

Keith had managed to talk the gas station attendant into calling his manager, who took a stupid amount of time to agree to let Keith work when he wanted for minimum wage if he worked the first day for free. Keith had shrugged and agreed, much to the attendant’s horror, and got to work organizing and cleaning in the back room. 

“You know, there’s better places to work,” the attendant said, watching Keith lift boxes and move restock to the front so it wouldn’t expire in the back. Keith glanced over his shoulder and shrugged, remembering what Abby had told him earlier.

He left a little past seven that night, having spent most his time making the place not suck ass – at least, that’s what the attendant said. He steps through the front door of the orphanage and walks to the kitchen, going through the cabinets and fridge before he makes himself peanut butter toast.

Keith is almost calmed by the routine that he falls into. When he’s not at the gas station he’s helping around the orphanage for extra pay – at Abby’s insistence – or wandering the town. He’s gone for a run a few times but quickly finds that being covered head to toe to avoid the chilling nip of the air is worse than using break as rest time. He does continue doing small workouts in his room though, mostly upper body during the rare quiet parts of the night. 

He spends a lot of time thinking about the Garrison. While he’d missed his bed and private room, neither can curb the itch he feels under his skin when he thinks of lessons or flight class. Even though he’s fallen back into a routine here he misses his routine at school, misses studying and workouts and the greenhouse and _not feeling lonely all the time._ Because he’s known most of these kids since they’d arrived but he doesn’t _know_ them, no connection with them able to compare to what he felt at Garrison with his teachers and Shiro. The men and woman who have helped raise him for the better half of a decade don’t feel as familiar as his third hour teacher. He and the boy in the room next to his that he’d walked to school with since he was eight up until he left could never have the same easy flow of conversation that him and Shiro do. 

Keith’s grateful for the distraction that the real world can offer him even though he finds himself enraged more often than not. He’d forgotten how many people in this town lacked manners and common sense and it drove him mad. He’d barely restrained himself from lashing out at a customer after she’d made a mess at the coffee station and left it because _who the fuck does that?_

He feels bad for his two coworkers for having to deal with stuff like this daily, one being the man he met when he had started and the other looking like a fresh high school graduate. He was quiet and kept his comments to himself, leaving Keith to clean up or organize or sit and read a damn magazine. 

While Keith was the least experienced with how paydays worked and what amount of money would be considered _good,_ he found himself more than ecstatic when he received his first payment at the end of the week. He had to count to five in his head to calm down and ensure that he wouldn’t blow it on the first thing he saw. A large part of him wanted to save it in case of future expenses, but he rationed and decided that buying a few things with his future payments before he left for the Garrison again wouldn’t be too bad. 

His routine was shaken up a bit in the following week due to Christmas. While his coworkers still had to show up for their shifts, the manager made it clear that Keith wasn’t to come near the building that day. He’d told him to stay home and celebrate Christmas with his family which Keith thought was utterly ridiculous but he could see where the man was coming from.

He’d attended work for the first half of the week before he accepted his fate to be stuck inside the next day on the night of Christmas Eve. He busies himself for most of the night reading through class notes and skimming future chapters, only stopping when Abby brings him a hot chocolate. He shoves his notes in his textbook to save the place before he drops it on the floor, curling up at the foot of his bed to stare out the window. His eyes trace the constellations and skirt over the tops of trees, warm cup stationed between his hands as he falls back into thought. 

xxx 

Keith wakes up at an unbearably early time the next morning due to the excited screaming of the children.

He can distantly hear the sounds of them ripping the wrapping off of the gift that was left outside their rooms the night before, can hear the pound of little feet against old wood floors as they run to their friends room to show off what they got. He can smell breakfast too, sausage, eggs, and pancakes, like every Holiday before. It’s nostalgic enough to make Keith’s lips thin as he rolls over and covers his head with his blankets. 

He only manages another hour of sleep until one of the workers knocks on his door to ask if he wants any breakfast saved for him. He says no and thanks them, says that he’ll make something himself when he gets up. He can’t help but feel like it’s _wrong_ when they hum in acknowledgement and leave, feels like the situation would’ve gone much different had he been back at the Garrison and Shiro was on the other side of the door. 

When he finally opens the door to his room, a medium sized box is outside it, wrapped in sky blue paper. He quirks a brow at it and glances down the hall before he leans down and flips the tag over. ‘Keith’ is written on it in neat cursive. He hesitantly picks it up and walks back into his room, sitting on his bed to slowly unwrap the box. He lifts the lid off to reveal red, black, and white boots. He pulls them out of the box, eyeing them as his hands slide over the soft leather. 

“Like them?” 

He glances over his shoulder to see Abby grinning at him. He gives her a forced scowl.

“You know I don’t like gifts.” 

She shrugs. “I figured you deserved something after working your ass off at the Garrison. Do you like them?”

Keith’s gaze softens. He looks down at the boots again, thumb grazing the heel of one. “Yeah, I like them.”

xxx 

He goes back to work the next day and the days after that, enjoying being away from the loud commotion at the orphanage due to the post-Holiday excitement. One of his coworkers comment on his boots his first day back, laughing a bit before saying that they ‘fit him’, whatever that means. 

He sees his old science teacher halfway through his last week. She stops to have a conversation with him, mostly questions about how the Garrison operates and what they’re learning about. She asks how he is as a pilot and since he’s never been good at bragging he says he’s okay for a newbie, the whole time replaying the praise he’d heard form his instructor. The reminder of flying is enough to make his hands itch for the rest of the day, too jumpy to settle until he takes the longest bath of his life that night. 

It’s the day before he leaves for the Garrison again, bus tickets on his desk at the orphanage. He’s finishing up for the day when he gets his payment, stuffing the money inside Shiro’s jacket pocket. 

He leaves the gas station for the last time a little before six, stomach full from snacks that the manager had let him have. He carries his saved cash with him even though he doubts he’ll buy anything, keeping it in his pocket more due to the sense of pride he feels than actual want to spend it. He gathered all the money he’d saved that morning, letting the wad sit in the inside pocket of the jacket as he wandered town. 

His new boots crunch on dead grass as he walks through the town, having been inseparable from them since he’d gotten them. He scowls when he thinks about having to swap them with the Garrison boots when he gets back to school but even that’s not enough to dim his mood as he walks through the few open shops, stopping into a few thrift stores before he walks into an antique store. He’s not the largest fan of antiques, but he browses the shelves anyways, picking up small glass bottles and old toy cars. He’s almost rounded the corner of the second to last shelf when he sees it and it’s _perfect._ His eyes widen as his hands run over it, slowly lifting it from the shelf to examine it. The tag shows it’s more expensive than he’d usually go for but he carries it to the register anyways, fishes out the amount due before he carefully takes the antique from the owner who has it wrapped in newspaper to help keep it safe.

He stares at the paper the whole way to the orphanage, cradling it close to his chest as he walks slowly. He makes his way through the front doors and up the stairs without anyone bothering him, though he barely avoids being knocked over when two little girls shove past him in the hall. He places it on his desk when he makes it to his room before he gets changed into warm clothes and sits on his bed and pulls it into his lap. 

He peels back the old newspaper to stare at the glass bottle, eyeing the large detailed ship that resembles one of NASA’s old ships inside. It looked like the ship in a bottle one of the older workers kept in her office but space themed and about a thousand times cooler. He’s almost embarrassed that such a thing could remind him so much of Shiro, enough for him to buy it without a second thought. 

He imagines his face when he gives it to him and his chest swells with pride. He’s never been one for gift giving or receiving, but he thinks he’d start buying everything he saw if he knew it would make his best friend happy. Keith sucks in a breath at his thoughts before he decides that yeah, Shiro’s his best friend. Shiro’s his best friend and he wants him to be as happy as Keith is when he’s around him.

Now to figure out how to work up the courage to give it to him…


	9. nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soft keith warm keith little ball of awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hi sorry for being Dead I literally ended my school year in the worst way possible but it's cool dude. I probably could have made this longer but I think spending 20 days adding onto and rewriting crap is just going to be crap so you gotta learn to let go and let live. 
> 
> I have most of chapter ten done already and I started that a bit ago so expect it sometime after memorial day? I'm going on vacation and I can't bring my laptop rip

The ride back to the Garrison feels terribly nostalgic in all the best ways.

He leaves early enough in the morning that the train is almost barren of life and only two of the buses he has to ride are slightly crowded with people headed for work. There’s a small Garrison shuttle waiting to take kids who signed up for needing transportation back to the school. There are a few others on when he walks up the steps and he walks past them to the back, settles in his seat with his backpack in his lap gingerly. He has Shiro’s gift at the top of his bag with extra newspaper wrapped around it to help keep it safe. The heater isn’t turned on and Keith can feel his teeth chatter against each other despite the extra warmth Shiro’s jacket provides. 

They ride in silence and it takes less than forty-five minutes to reach the school. Keith lets everyone file out before him before he steps off, looking towards the entrance as he pulls his bag on. 

He makes it to his room early enough that his roommate hasn’t come in yet and he leaves the door open, swearing it’s for his convenience and not some misled hope that Shiro will see he’s back. He starts unpacking his bag, leaving Shiro’s gift on his pillow as he shuffles with his clothes and other belongings. He tucks his new boots under the bed and his blade inside his pillowcase, making sure not to disturb the gift.

He’s almost done when there’s a knock on his door. He turns and sees the large grin split across Shiro’s face before returning one of his own. The older male walks into the room and Keith notes the hand behind his back almost suspiciously. Shiro acts before he can question his, presenting the hidden item. 

“Happy holidays!” he half-yells, quiet enough to not disturb those around them but loud enough to sound throughout the room. Keith blinks in surprise at the small, white rectangle box being held out to him, bright red ribbon wrapped around it before his mind catches up with the situation. 

“Happy holidays to you, too,” he says and gathers up the gift from his pillow, presenting it to Shiro quickly with a slight flush. “Sorry it’s not wrapped as nice.” 

Shiro’s face is blank when he looks up before the older man lets out a peel of laughter, grabbing the gift and replacing it with his. “It’s perfect how it is. Thank you, Keith.”

His mouth goes embarrassingly dry and he has to clear his throat before speaking. “It’s no problem,” he says, adding with a soft flush, “Thank you, too.” 

He starts to slowly peel away the tape on the paper, noticing that Shiro is sitting in wait for him to finish. He does so quickly, pulling out the gift with a mixture of awe and slight confusion on his face. 

“They’re gloves, like mine,” Shiro explains quickly, using his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I noticed that your knuckles get really red and bruised when we work out so I thought you’d like them.” 

Keith looks at them in awe before he sets down the box and puts them on. He flexes his fingers for a minute before a large grin stretches over his face and he looks up at Shiro with bright eyes. “Thank you, Shiro!” He grins back and ruffles his hair while Keith shoves at his arm. “Open yours!” 

Shiro rolls his eyes before peeling back newspaper, fingers halting when the bottle is uncovered. Calloused fingertips rub over the smooth glass, taking in its contents with a soft, interested expression. “Wow,” he breathes, “Keith, it’s amazing.” He sets it down on the bed quickly and pulls Keith into a tight hug. Keith’s breath halts as his face presses against Shiro’s sternum, one hand slowly snaking around to pat his back twice. Shiro pulls back and sits down onto Keith’s bed, pulling the bottle into his lap to marvel at it more.

“Where did you find this?” he asks, turning the bottle over in his hands. Keith shrugs and flops back into his desk chair. 

“Just an old antique store in my town,” he says and, without thinking, adds, “I can take you there one day.” 

Shiro’s expression morphs into something unreadable before he nods. “Yeah, that’d be fun,” and the way he says those four words lift the weight from Keith’s chest and he grins. 

“Before that though,” he says, standing from the bed and stretching, “I got a few new movies from my cousin as a gift. Want to watch them?” 

Keith snorts before taking the gloves off and setting them back in the box. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.” He waits until Shiro turns his back to him to slide the box under his pillowcase and following him out of the room. 

They reach Shiro’s room in a matter of minutes, passing returning cadets and officers on their way. It’s weird to be seen with Shiro by so many people since they usually walk together once the masses have cleared the halls or when it’s so crowded so one pays attention anyways and Keith isn’t sure how to respond to it. The building is cold and he left Shiro’s jacket on his bed, walking around in a gray long sleeve and joggers. He goes to sit on Shiro’s bed as soon as he steps through the door, toeing off his worn out Vans and sliding underneath the covers. Shiro huffs at him as he sets the bottle on top of his desk. 

Shiro’s suitcase is sitting at the bottom of the bed unopened with his jacket lying across it and seeing it makes Keith realize that he still hasn’t asked for the black one he leant him back. He shifts lower under the covers as Shiro starts to unzip his bag and put things away. 

He pulls out a shopping bag and lightly tosses it to Keith. “The movies are somewhere in there. Pick out whatever you want.”

Keith nods before opening the bag. There’s an array of cards and random gifts at the bottom of the bag, a set of three movies plastic wrapped together sitting on top of them. He pulls them out and takes the wrapping off them, looking over each one. They’re all action movies; one looking like it’s a mix of action and horror. He reads over them as Shiro shuffles around, shoving clothes in his dresser and setting things in his bathroom. Keith decides on one and puts the rest back in the bag, catching a glimpse of something that makes him gape. 

“What?” Shiro asks when he returns from putting up toiletries. “You look like you just found a million dollars in there.” He laughs a little when Keith turns his gaze to him, fishing out a small blue box. “Seriously? That’s what’s got you so excited?” 

Keith scowls at him but doesn’t put back the box of hot chocolate. He’s reading the box when Shiro plucks it out of his hands, ignoring Keith’s shout of distaste and sitting next to him on the bed as he glances it over. “Do you like hot cocoa?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching Shiro rip the box open. “What’re you-?” 

“You said you like it, right?” He asks, looking down at him. “I have a coffee pot in here. We can use it to heat water and make some, if you want.” 

Keith’s mouth opens and closes before he finally stutters out an, “Uh, yeah, sure.” Shiro takes the box and sets it on his dresser, moving to the TV stand and opening one of the side doors. Keith sees an array of miscellaneous items shoved into the small space and it takes a moment of shuffling items before he pulls out the machine, setting it next to the hot chocolate box and plugging it in. He takes the coffee pot and rinses it out in the bathroom, returning with it full of water to heat. He starts it and grabs the DVD Keith picked out off the bed, looking over it.

“Are you a horror fan?” he asks, already opening the case and moving towards the DVD player.

“I guess,” Keith says, “I don’t really watch movies that often.” 

Shiro glances back at him. “We can do something else, if you don’t want to watch a movie.” He hums in protest, moving back under the covers. 

“No, I want to watch this.”

Shiro laughs. “Whatever you say.”

Shiro disappears into the bathroom once the trailers and warnings start, reappearing in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He leans against the dresser to slip a pair of socks on, visibly wincing when the coffee machine beeps loudly next to his ear. Shiro grabs his coffee mug from his desk, glancing in it before walking towards the bathroom to rinse it out. He walks back out and catches Keith’s eyes. “Dusty,” he says as way of explanation and then, “Do you want one or two packages?” 

“Two,” Keith says, watching as Shiro stirs the hot chocolate powder into the water. He walks around the bed and hands the cup to Keith carefully, watching as he takes a sip of the hot drink. 

“Good?” he asks, smiling slightly when Keith hums. 

“Good.” 

Shiro walks to the other side of the bed and shoves the blankets out of the way, crossing his feet at his ankles and leaning against his pillow. Keith side eyes him as he does so, cutting his gaze away when Shiro’s flickers towards him. “What?” 

“Are you not going to get any?” he asks, lifting the cup to signal what he means. Shiro shrugs. 

“I figured if I wanted any I could just take yours, since I made it.” 

Keith flushes, mutters, “O-okay,” and he’s not entirely sure if he’s looking too much into it but sharing a drink with him feels intimate, in a way. He doesn’t voice it though, not sure if he’s right or his messed up childhood and lack of intimacy has just fucked him up to believe so. 

They settle into comfortable silence after that. The beginning of the movie is boring to Keith, leaving his eyes drooping and his grip of the coffee mug nearly slipping once or twice. He wiggles in the sheets a bit until he’s laying more on his back than sitting, head propped up with one of Shiro’s pillows. He gets flashbacks to the last time he was in this room when the faint smell of vanilla and cinnamon hits his nose, barely lingering. He rests the bottom of the coffee mug right under his ribs and turns his face into the pillow slightly, letting his eyelids droop. 

He lingers over the line of conscious and unconscious for what feels like minutes when one of Shiro’s hands grab at the handle of the coffee mug, the other peeling his fingers off of it. Keith hums in distaste but gives it up anyways, slowly opening his eyes.

Shiro’s still staring at the TV screen as he takes a drink from the mug. Keith’s hands twitch when he pulls the mug away from him, taken by half-awake surprise when Shiro leans to put the mug on his desk instead of back to Keith. He looks down at Keith and smiles thinly, moving a hand to ruffle Keith’s hair. His fingers brush the strands back from Keith’s forehead before it settles in the dark strands and Shiro turns his attention back to the screen. Keith’s mind twists the feeling, forces a blush to his cheeks and he wants to move so he can shove his face into the pillow but he’s worried that doing so will make Shiro pull his hand away so he stays still, perfectly still. Shiro seems content enough to stay like this, fingers twitching every now and then in but otherwise relaxed. 

Somewhere in his mind Keith _knows_ that he’s reading too into it now, knows that the tightness in his chest and flush on his face is for no reason because this is _Shiro_. It’s Shiro, which should be reason enough for Keith to squash his stupid feelings back where they belong but it only makes it worse because Keith is in his bed with his hand in his hair and _God,_ he has no idea how he’s _supposed_ to respond but he doubts it’s this way. 

His thoughts come to a halt when Shiro’s hand slips from his hair and his body moves lower on the bed, sliding until he’s almost mirroring Keith’s position, eyes still on the movie. He doesn’t seem to mind that Keith’s all but ignoring the reason he was invited here, just moves to rest an arm behind his head and the other on his own stomach as the scene starts to pick up into something that could vaguely be classified as action. 

Keith’s not sure when he falls asleep that night. Somewhere between the sound of explosions from the screen and his own breathing a white noise fills his ears. His eyes fall shut after watching the easy rise and fall of Shiro’s chest beneath his t-shirt, flickering often to his profile to see the relaxed expression. And yeah, maybe it’s not as good as having his hand run through his hair, but Keith finds it just as relaxing to fall asleep with the faint smell of cinnamon and vanilla surrounding him. 

xxx

Keith’s shook awake the next morning, hand encasing his shoulder. Keith groans before he can will himself to open his eyes, blinking past the light of the room to peer up at Shiro. “What?” he croaks out, throat dry.

“You need to be getting ready,” Shiro says, “There’s classes today.”

Keith groans and rolls over, shoves his face into the pillow. “I’m not going today.” 

“Bullshit,” Shiro says and yanks the blanket from Keith, laughing when he yelps at the cold air hitting his skin. “Get up and get ready.” 

Keith glares at him as he rolls out of bed, slipping his feet into his shoes as he yawns. His back pops when he stretches, pulling out a groan from him. Shiro rolls his eyes before he kicks at Keith’s ankle. “Are we on for training today?” 

He glances over his shoulder at him. “Only if you promise to sneak me in the garden soon.” 

Shiro laughs and walks towards the door, Keith trailing after him. “Deal.” He opens it, giving a small wave as Keith walks through it and out the third year wing. 

It’s so early that almost no one’s out of their room yet and Keith manages to sneak into the first year wing without being questioned. He goes to his room and is pilfering through his dresser for clothes for the day when his roommate wakes up. 

“Keith?” he says, sitting up on his elbows in the bed and rubbing at his eyes. 

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Keith responds. His roommate waves him off as he runs his free hand down his face. 

“No, it’s cool.” There’s a pause, and then, “Why didn’t you come back last night? Not that I really have room to talk but you’re usually always in here. Is everything okay?” 

Keith quirks a brow. “Yes? Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks, ignoring the first part of the question. He’s never bothered to question _him,_ so why does he have to face questions he doesn’t want to answer? 

His roommate shrugs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he stands. “I don’t know, dude. You’re usually studying and always look like you’re about to commit a felony that it weirded me out that you weren’t here.” He pauses, not seeing how Keith’s nose scrunches up. “Okay, that probably wasn’t the best word choice, but you get what I mean, right?” 

Keith just stares at his back while he talks, brows furrowed. The longest conversation he’s ever held with anyone in the Garrison other than Shiro and he’s managed to be insulted by a kid whose idea of fun is leaving crude drawings on other peoples things. It takes him a minute to respond, ending up with a lame, “Yeah, sure.”

His roommate turns towards him, clamping a hand on Keith’s shoulder and giving his a thin grin. It takes an overwhelming amount of self-restraint for Keith to not shrug him off. “Glad we’re on the same page.” His hand drops and turns into a wave as he leaves the room. “I’m going to go shower. Don’t miss me too much!” 

Keith’s expression morphs into unveiled disgust as he leaves because _Jesus Christ, when can I get a new roommate?_


	10. ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelings for the birthday boyyy ayyyyyeee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end of this chapter did not go as planned but I am 1000% cool with that  
> also I kind of switch between describing Keith and Shiro's feelings in this a few times instead of just Keith's so hopefully that flows smoothly to you guys, let me know if it feels/sounds weird
> 
> ps I have 'humble abode' imbedded into every multi chapter fix I've written since I was twelve and this is no different, bless
> 
> EDIT: I was gonna mention this but forgot when I first posted this, but I made like an art account on Instagram?? It's mostly Keith and a bit of other stuff and I'm gonna start posting the outfits I've described for Keith in this so check that out if you want. It's fukaielle on Instagram :)

It’s weeks later that Keith finds himself jotting notes in class on a Friday, hand keeping his head up as he stares blankly across the lecture hall.

Classes have become terribly boring since break, not that they weren’t before. His only saving grace is the sim and PT, which was introduced when they got back, despite Shiro saying they usually start training in cadets second year. It takes everything in Keith to not glance at the clock every minute, counting down until his boring classes end and he can fly, fight, or flee. Doing so doesn’t make the time go faster but not doing so just makes him anxious and that’s when Keith realizes that _yeah, it’s always something_. 

He tries to not think about Shiro, tries to not connect his boredom to the fact that Shiro was moved to older, higher level classes and he only gets to see him through the glass in the sim room and after classes now. His attempts get increasingly more pathetic as each day goes on until he finally decides that running from it isn’t going to help solve it. The Garrison is boring without Shiro’s presence and Keith might be a little in over his head. 

Keith’s eyes twitch, flickering between the teacher and clock so often anyone watching would ask if he was okay. There’s only a minute left and his hand has long stilled, slowly pilling sheets of paper and tucking them into his binder when it lets out a shrill sound. Keith jumps into action with it, stacking his books and binder and disappearing out the door without waiting to hear any instructions for the next day. He’s halfway down the hallway when Shiro appears out of the classroom on his right, all easy smiles and relaxed shoulders. 

They’d made it a habit to walk to the sim together long before break and continued it despite Shiro’s move. They usually have light conversation or walk in silence, Shiro giving small waves to those he knows as they pass by. They take the long route now too, Keith preferring it because it’s less crowded (less people to distract Shiro) and Shiro goes with it because it’s _Shiro,_ Garrison’s golden boy who’s the picture of polite and refined (Matt said this during dinner one night and Keith _still_ laughs over it). 

No plan is perfect though and they still pass people, most often Shiro’s ginger best friend who doesn’t seem to understand timing but is still so endearing that _well, I guess it’s okay._  

He walks past them today, slapping Shiro’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, dude!” he shouts through the half filled hallway and Keith’s grateful that everyone’s too busy going their own way to look back at them. Shiro grins at him, lifts his hand into a wave. 

“Thank you!” he shouts back before moving his gaze forward again, small smile lingering. Keith stares back at Matt before he looks up at Shiro’s profile. 

“I didn’t know it was your birthday.” 

“Huh?” Shiro matches his gaze, blinking in surprise once, twice. “Oh, yeah. Leap year baby, you know.” He laughs it off but Keith doesn’t. 

“That’s so cool,” he says, “What do you want for your birthday?” 

Shiro’s laugh cuts off. “What?” He pauses. “Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it, I don’t want anything.” 

Keith glares at him. “Bullshit. Tell me what you want.” 

Shiro slaps his shoulder. “Stop talking like that.” 

“Only if you tell me what you want,” he said, pushing Shiro’s hand from his shoulder. 

He sighed, hand snaking up to run through his hair. “I’m serious, Keith. I’m not really into celebrating birthdays.” A pause. “But, if you want, you can eat dinner with me and my friends.” 

The thought makes his nose turn up, but he nods anyways. They’re nearing the sim door and Keith’s body hums with excitement, making Shiro laugh. They part ways once they’re through the doors, Keith staying near the back of the group and Shiro heading to the observation deck. 

xxx

Keith’s eyes flickered between the table and door, mind trying to gauge how upset Shiro would be if he made a run for it. 

So, okay, Keith had a fairly good guess on how popular Shiro was. He’s the Garrison’s golden boy and overall not unpleasant to be around, why wouldn’t he have a lot of friends? So yeah, even going into this with _that_ mentality left him unprepared for the sight he saw as they walked to the table. 

Keith’s not sure who did it but someone had commandeered two tables and stuck them together and also isn’t sure if they knew what comfort was with how squished they were along the table. He immediately thought back to the year he spent in the orphanage that it was grossly overcrowded, easily comparing the older teens with the children who would fight over elbowroom and which spoon was theirs. 

He followed behind Shiro to the end of the table where two chairs remained empty and, surprisingly, had a good space around them. He must’ve told one of them he was coming then, Keith concludes as he slowly sets his tray down. He and Shiro’s entrance gain a loud roar from the table, Matt giving a drumroll on the surface of it. 

Keith tries really hard not to wince at the loud sound while Shiro laughs, grinning out at everyone. Honestly, if you asked Keith how dinner went, he wouldn’t be able to tell you much because he spent most of the time staring at Shiro smile and noticing all the changes between his attitude and demeanor with Keith versus his friends. He could say that he felt pretty shit most of it, watching how much fun Shiro had with people other than him. 

Keith suspects that his shit feelings are what attracted the attention of Matt. He has to have some radar or something because his attention snaps to Keith when the meals almost done, giving a large grin. Keith raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for the question or passing taunt he usually gets in the hallway. 

“So Keith,” he starts, finger tracing the rim of his water glass, “What brings you to our humble abode?” Keith looks around. 

“Uh, the Union?” 

Matt laughs with a few others from the table who are listening when Shiro rests his hand on his shoulder. “Keith’s here because he’s cooler than all of you.” 

Matt gasps and stands, planting one hand on the table and using the other one to point at Shiro accusingly. “I put up with your shit as your roommate for _two years_! You know how much sleep I lost from you showing up and disappearing at random points in the night?” 

Keith snorts, getting flashbacks to earlier reprimands when he’d told Shiro about waking up in the middle of the night to shower. He turns to look at Shiro, grinning largely. “ _You_ were a troublemaker? I thought sneaking out at night was bad?” Shiro groans, reaching out to shove Keith’s bangs into his eyes. 

“I was young and dumb and a little _too_ much like Matt,” he said, ignoring Matt’s yell of disapproval as he sat back down. 

“You know, I didn’t do jack shit until this year,” he said, holding up his hands. “After two years of being an upstanding citizen, can you really blame a dude for pulling a few pranks?” 

“I wouldn’t classify ‘prank’ as wiring Iverson’s lights to flicker everyday at six in the evening,” one of the girls near the end of the table pipes up, mirroring the middle finger that Matt throws her. 

Dinner goes on like that for a while until Shiro catches Keith’s eye, raising a brow and jerking his head towards the exit. Keith follows it and nods, gathering up his tray while Shiro addresses the group. 

“Well, we need to get going,” he says, “Got to get Keith away from you awful influences before you ruin him for good. See you guys later.” 

There’s a chorus of goodbyes yelled at them as they leave, Shiro waving through the door. There’s energy in his step when they walk out of the Union and Keith can feel it draining into him like it’s contagious and, even though contagious isn’t the most flattering word, Keith feels like he can apply it to a lot of things about Shiro. Like the happiness and ease Keith feels when they hang out in his room, the excitement when they spar, and the calm when they just sit and enjoy each other’s company. 

They pass some other people in the hallway but Shiro stares forward, spaced out with a smile on his face. They make it to Shiro’s room quickly as always, Shiro grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser and disappearing into his bathroom. Keith rummages through the middle drawer where Shiro lets him keep some clothes so nights they work out Keith doesn’t have to go all the way back to his room. He also keeps some sweatpants and t-shirts there too, for when his roommate has friends over and Keith spends the whole of his afternoon in Shiro’s room. 

Keith and Shiro switch places when he exits the bathroom. He pulls his sweater he’d changed into before going to dinner off, followed by his jeans and slips on his shorts and t-shirt. He leaves his clothes on the side of Shiro’s hamper, long since learning that doing so ensures that Shiro will wash, fold and put them up for him. And yeah, maybe Keith was taking advantage of how good of a friend Shiro was, but it left less laundry for him to do so he didn’t feel as bad about it. 

He exited the bathroom, making a beeline for the dresser and pulling out the gloves Shiro had gotten him. He’d been able to wear them in a bit, the leather of them more comfortable when they sparred. Shiro grinned at him as they left his room, slinging an arm over Keith’s shoulders as they walked to the gym. His hand lifted to brush through the dark strands of hair at his nape when they entered before dropping entirely, going to set his water and key on a bench against the wall. 

Sparring came easy for them. Session after session was spent with quick blows and tips thrown into the air by Shiro, Keith gaining more and more experience each time and becoming increasingly harder to knock down. He’d built up muscle too, though not as much as his small frame had allowed him. Shiro makes jokes between punches, goading Keith into soft burning anger that’s not full, not truly _anger_ but that’s all he can think to classify it as. Keith bites back, cunning grin when he lands a few burns on Shiro. It’s easy, it always has been, and it lulls Keith into an alert yet relaxed state. 

It’s forty-five minutes later when they tucker out, Shiro leaving Keith lying on his back on the mat to retrieve his water bottle. Keith’s chest heaves up and down as he watches Shiro take gulps from his water before passing it to Keith, who accepts it greedily. He chugs down a good portion of it and lets his arms fly out to his sides, staring at the ceiling. Shiro nudges his side with his foot and Keith gives up the water reluctantly, moving his gaze to his profile as he stares down at Keith. He reaches his free hand out and Keith grabs it, letting Shiro tug him to standing. Their hands linger together longer than they should before Keith drops his, turning towards the door with a faint blush high on his cheeks. 

“You’re getting pretty good,” Shiro starts, “In a while I won’t be able to knock you down like that anymore.” He pauses; grin overtaking his features as he prods at Keith’s side. “You’ll have to gain a few pounds before then, though.” 

Keith scowls and shoves his hand away. “I’m trying to be nice for your birthday, but you’re making it really hard.” This earned him a laugh, Shiro walking to the bench to grab his key. 

“Is your version of being nice called not talking for the majority of the night?” 

Keith shrugs. “Basically.”

Shiro rolls his eyes and leads Keith back to his room, kicking him in the butt towards the shower. “Hurry up. I want to talk when you get out.” 

And _that_ was enough for his stomach to twist in knots, the energy he limbs held before gone as he sluggishly pulled off his clothes and stepped in the shower. His mind raced with what Shiro could possibly want to talk about and Keith didn’t know if he was just fucked up or if his shit upraising had a play in how his mind jumped to the worst conclusions. He tried to shake away the thought that spending time with all his friends made Shiro rethink their friendship and want nothing to do with him but it stayed put, tearing him down brick by brick. But you can’t really blame him for thinking so, years of almost adoptions and being pushed aside for another kid, a nicer kid, a social kid, a _calmer_ kid had made Keith’s outlook on ‘I want to talk’ warped and depressing. 

He toweled off, slipping on his sweater from earlier in the day and his boxer shorts, rubbing his hair with the towel before dropping it into the hamper and exiting the bathroom. 

Shiro’s sitting on the bed when he gets out, eyes reading something on his tablet. He puts it down when Keith climbs on the bed, tucking his legs under himself and pulling the blanket around his shoulders, eyes downcast as he waits for whatever Shiro has to tell him. 

A quick glance up shows that’d he’d changed already, usual sweatpants and t-shirt in place as always. He catches Keith’s gaze, clearing his throat when violet eyes flicker away. “So,” he starts, “What’s wrong?” 

Keith’s eyes flew to his again, wide at the question. He lifted one shoulder in a dead shrug, earning him a kick to his knee. “Bullshit. Tell me.” 

“Why does it matter?” he says sharply, crossing his arms. Shiro stares at his defiant stance before sighing, dropping his head into his hand. 

“It matters because you shouldn’t have to feel like shit if I can do something about it,” he snaps, throwing his hand out to the side. He doesn’t miss the way Keith flinches away and his expression softens in response, long sigh ripping out of him as he lets his head rest against the headboard. “Can’t you just accept that I want to help? Why is that so hard?” 

His words trigger a mirage of images, scenes from growing up. Outraged orphanage workers trying to figure out _why_ Keith was so angry, _why_ he couldn’t let things be _, why_ he always had to have the last word. The few adoptive families that had only had him for a few days at most in shock at his behavior, screaming _what’s wrong with you?_ like he knew more than they did. School counselors and teachers and principals who looked at him like the societal failure he was, telling him _if you can’t control yourself, you’ll never go anywhere in life_ like that was supposed to change how emotions took control of his mind so violently that he couldn’t stop himself. 

Most of all they bring back the hurt and anger he’d kept under wraps for _months,_ ripping away the bandage and forcing him into outrage so quickly he couldn’t try to stop it if he wanted too. 

“Maybe I don’t want your fucking help!” he yells, hands slamming against the bed sheets. “Why can’t you just accept that maybe I don’t want your help? Maybe I don’t want to talk about it?” He grows angrier each second, teeth clenched. Shiro is frowning, hand reaching out to grab Keith’s shoulder before he slaps it away. 

“Keith, it’s okay, calm do-.” 

“No!” he screams, “It’s not okay and I don’t want to calm down! I’m so sorry I’m not perfect and controllable like every other fucking person in the damn school! And what the fuck is ‘what’s wrong’? If I knew what was wrong with me I’d be with a family, _not trying to launch myself into outer-fucking-space!_ ” He takes a second to breath and scrub at his eyes as they well up, despite all his efforts to not let them. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Shiro says in his pause, voice cold and eyes steely. “I swear to God Keith, _stop_ doing this to yourself. Stop misinterpreting things and letting them hurt you. _Grow up._ ” 

And that’s it for Keith, the tears in his eyes welling up and spilling over, trailing down his cheeks. He knows he’s red with anger and hurt and jealously, heart aching in his sternum as he shoves the sheets away from him and paces the floor, back to Shiro as he tries to wipe the tears off his face. “Don’t you think if I knew how to stop I would? Do you think I _want_ to be a fuck up and feel like shit?” 

Shiro shoves himself from the bed and crosses the floor to him, slapping away the hand that Keith uses to push him away. He grabs Keith by his biceps and turns him to face him, ignoring the sound of distaste Keith lets out to lean down, locking his eyes onto Keith’s. His breath hiccups but he keeps his teeth clenched, hitting Shiro on his sides and arms in a weak attempt to get away. 

“You’re not a fuck up,” he starts slowly, breathing hard with anger as his fingers clench around his biceps. “Fuck ups don’t get top grades and land themselves at the top of sim scores. Who gives a fuck if everyone’s given you shit growing up because they aren’t _now,_ not when you’re going to be piloting amazing missions while they’re stuck on Earth being as pathetic as they always have been. And it’s so fucking _stupid_ that I actually have to yell it in your damn face to get you to listen to me.” One hand cards into Keith’s hair and the other presses between his shoulder blades, pulling Keith’s still crying form to his chest _._ “Now, when I ask you _what’s wrong_ , you’re going to tell me so I can help you _not_ feel like shit. Stop comparing me to all the other people in your life because I care about you and want you to be happy and I need you to _let me help you!”_

Keith hiccups into Shiro’s shirt, shaky hands trailing up his chest to grab fistfuls of his t-shirt. Shiro can feel Keith’s weight slipping and walks them back to the bed, pulling Keith onto the mattress with him. His chin rests on his head as he waits for Keith’s answer, fingers gliding through strands of hair in an attempt to calm him. Keith’s still shaking, a mixture of his anger and crying forcing his shoulders to fold into himself until his back forms a guard against the world and Shiro can’t help but wonder how many times this has happened and if Keith had _ever_ had anyone there for him like he did now. 

After what feels like forever, Keith shifts to rest his forehead on Shiro’s collarbone. A few more breaths, then a quiet, “I’m sorry,” pressed into the fabric of his shirt. His arms wraps around Keith tighter. 

“Don’t apologize. Talk.”

It’s like pulling nails trying to get Keith to talk about how he feels. He’s quiet and lets him talk and nearly forty five minutes later he can piece together what had kept him so quiet throughout the day, along with a few other stories from his childhood that Keith reluctantly shares, using them to help explain why it was so hard for him to talk like this. 

His hands still move through Keith’s hair when he speaks. “You shouldn’t have to feel like that compared to my other friends. There’s a reason I put up with you,” he says, trying to ease the seriousness with a lighthearted joke. He means it though, and Keith knows he means it when his arm pulls him closer. 

“You just look happier around them. It…” His hands tighten in the fabric of Shiro’s shirt and he can hear the unspoken _hurts_ lingering in the air around them.

“I’m happy with you, too. It’s different with you, though.” He finally pulls his hand from Keith’s hair and leans back, untangling Keith’s fingers from his shirt to loosely hold his wrists. “You’re the only one I want to be around through all your hotheaded anger, trying to put weight on, buying holiday gifts, and spending as much time together as we do. I’m not nearly as close with any of my other friends as I am with you and I thought you could see that.” He pauses, breathes, looks Keith in the eyes. “I care about you Keith. Don’t let it hurt.” 

Keith rests his forehead against his sternum, tears slowly trickling from his eyes again. Shiro’s hands find his, fingers curling around his as they shift on the bed. They lay under the covers, Keith shoving the side of his face into a pillow while Shiro’s thumb brushes over his, his other hand rubbing up and down Keith’s arm. He’s lulled into sleep long before Shiro is, leaving him to stare at the mess of black hair peeking from under his blanket. His chest aches with what was said today, but the raw edge is good, freeing. It feels real, having his emotions strewn out for Keith to see instead of keeping them crammed into his mind. 

And maybe he didn’t let Keith in on everything because it wouldn’t be _fair,_ Shiro thinks, not to himself or Keith. It’s not fair to dump _everything_ onto Keith when he’s still trying to figure out his feelings and life himself so Shiro lets it hang in his mind. It’s not fair to himself because he doesn’t know what _everything_ is just yet, not sure if it’s just the content of having Keith around or something more. Maybe he doesn’t have it as under wraps as he thought, though, hand reaching up to brush black hair from his skin. His thumb moves over the exposed skin of Keith’s forehead before he sits up, using his elbow as leverage as he leans forward to press a soft kiss to Keith’s forehead before lying back and letting sleep take him away too.


	11. eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith is either bored in class or stressed or over emotional #highschoollife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo I mentioned last chapter about my art instagram where I'm going to be posting drawings of the outfits I put keith in/just fan art in general and if you want to check that out it's fukaielle on instagram. I don't know who all actually saw it because I forgot to mention it until two days after I posted the chapter and had to edit it   
> ALSO if you guys know any good multi chapter sheith fics (tbh I'll take non-fluffy klance at this point too) can you please recommend them?? I've had nothing to read for the last three weeks and I'm dying  
> lmao also if anyone took the June ACT today hmu I wanna shit talk that damn test

Summer is so close that Keith can feel the heat under his skin and through his bones. 

There’s only three weeks in the semester left before the Garrison let’s out for summer break. Classes switch between dragging by and speeding up as teachers try to prepare reattending students for the next year without wasting time with those dropping out. Keith isn’t sure when the last time he’d been as busy as he is now was but he wishes he could go back to boring classes. 

Shiro’s busy, too. He won’t let Keith see what he’s working on but it seems like everyday he has his tablet and works through meals and relax time. Him and Keith work in each others room lately, sitting either in silence or with Shiro’s TV as background noise as they each fill out their work. Keith’s trying to get his information for the following year in order as well as work on required paperwork for students wanting to try out for fighter pilot the beginning of their second year. No matter how many times he tries to look over Shiro’s shoulder, he can’t see what he’s working on and only gets a shove to his shoulder. 

Keith’s swamped with the paper work for reapplying. He’d gotten Abby from the orphanage to help him last time by pulling out his file since first year paperwork was due later than second year. He doesn’t have a way of contacting her though and has to have his profile submitted before he leaves for summer break even though they don’t open registration until late June. 

There are so many questions he doesn’t know how to answer, like primary physician and past medical history because he just doesn’t _know._ He hasn’t been to a doctor in years and can’t remember so much of his early life that he doesn’t know what to put down, leaving them blank after staring at them for forever. He glances over to Shiro, who’s sitting at his desk, and thinks about asking him but reconsiders when he sees the look of concentration on his face.

Keith finishes what he can on the first three forms before giving up for the night, flopping back on Shiro’s bed and covering his face with a pillow. He lets his mind wander and is almost uncomfortable with how it flows directly to the man in the room with him, despite it now being more common than not. It still catches him off guard how easy it is to think about Shiro, let his mind pull up memories and conclusions he’ll never let himself believe. 

The most prevalent, despite it being months ago and now late May, is their first fight since Keith almost punched him in the hallway. He hates wording it like that because _our first fight_ sounds so middle school relationship but that’s what it was, what it is. He can’t help but think about everything they talked about, how angry Shiro had been at his self-depreciative words, how he woke up with dried tears on his cheeks but Shiro’s hand still holding tightly onto his. It almost embarrasses him when he thinks about the changes in their friendship since, how much Shiro brags on him and is always first to ask if he’s okay after anything. He hasn’t mentioned it, would probably get too tongue-tied to try, but Keith is so grateful, so appreciative that he has Shiro there for him unlike anyone has been before. The amount of nights they’d spent afterwards just talking is more that Keith has ever experienced with anyone else and for the first time in his life Keith feels truly blessed to be right where he is. 

His favorite nights are easily when he and Shiro talk about their childhood, which turns into Shiro talking about what it was like growing up in Japan with his mom and traveling a lot. His favorite part is the wistful, blissful expression that always takes up his face when he talks about his mom and cousins. 

He tells Shiro what he can remember about his dad, leaving a few things out because he’s not ready to talk about it too much. He tells him about Abby and how she aged out his first year in the orphanage and moved on to college before coming back to the place she was raised to help others. Talks about how he had always wanted to be like that, decided from a young age after _so many_ unsuccessful adoptions that he wasn’t going to let himself be like the other kids in the home who were headed no where. He accepted the fact that he was probably going to be an age out as well and applied himself so that he had a place to go afterwards. He told Shiro about the awe he felt when he found out about the Galaxy Garrison, how he’d devoted so much of himself into getting the grades and potential to apply for a full scholarship. Told him about how the stars had been a fascination before then and he had actually wanted to be a medical student, but that changed when fascination became reality. He stopped getting into fights at school so his disciplinary record would reflect a docile, _normal_ student even though that didn’t stop him from the ones that happened outside of school, leaving him with so many bandages and bruises and more angry than ever before.

And _that_ opened a whole new conversation, Shiro insisting that he tells him about the fights he could remember. So he did, describing the beginning ones that start because of his anger and how overtime they started coming to him picking fights, making fun of his anger and dreams, all to see what all the talk about him was. It was stupid and annoying and he made that clear, saying that fights for a reason are okay but the fights leading up to him leaving were just _stupid._  

That’s what makes Shiro laugh though, hand carding through his hair to ruffle the black locks. “I’m proud of you,” he said, amusement heavy in his tone, “I’d rather you beat a kid up for a reason that senselessly pummel people.” Keith gave him a scowl for his word choice but he still appreciated the approval after years of not knowing if he was going about it right. After years of adult figures saying that _no_ fight was right and him firing back _but if it was going to happen no matter what, might as well have a reason, right?_  

Keith’s heart feels raw with so much being pulled away from it in the recent months but it feels good, unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Part of him feels incredibly stupid for getting attached, trying to pull him back to his early life’s mantra of _don’t talk, don’t feel_ because he’s _scared_ , doesn’t know if he’s doing anything right and if he really wants what he’s working so hard for. The other part of him is telling him to jump in, to finally take everything that he’d wanted for so much of his life. He couldn’t gain the stability of his father, never gained it with foster families, and couldn’t even count what he’d had at the orphanage as stability. Having someone who had promised not to leave, had shown that anger couldn’t drive them away and cared so intently was terrifying and exhilarating and all he’d ever wanted.

Speaking of, all he’d ever wanted just snorted themselves awake. 

Shiro seems just as surprised as Keith with the sound, looking around as if he’d forgotten his surroundings. He looks down at his tablet and sighs, shutting the device down.

“I didn’t realize it’d gotten so late,” he says, shoving away from the desk to stand from his chair and stretch his arms over his head. Keith watches him, holding the pillow to his chest, as Shiro walks to the door and shuts off the light. He’s shoving Keith over and climbing into the bed before Keith can protest, pulling the thick comforter over them and humming. 

“Who the hell said I wanted to stay here tonight?” Keith teased lightly, poking Shiro in the chest. He responds by stealing the pillow and shoving it in Keith’s face, laughing at the sound he makes. 

“You would’ve left by now if you were planning on it,” he responds, “Plus, you already took off your sweatpants, meaning you were ready to sleep.” A knowing glint is evident in his eyes, even with the darkness. “I know you, you can’t fool me.” 

Keith reaches out a leg to kick him, letting out a huff. “They’re not sweatpants, they’re joggers.” Shiro rolls his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, Hipster God of Sweatpan – ow! Keith, stop kicking me!” 

xxx 

Keith taps his pencil on his desk for most of his morning classes, instructors finally slowing down and lecturing again. He’s packing up when the instructor speaks, eyes watching the minute hand of the clock tick away to show dismissal for lunch.

“As some of you already know, the Galaxy Garrison is launching another mission this upcoming year to one of Pluto’s moons, Kerberos. This is the farthest exploration we have hosted and have high hopes for the mission.” He pauses and some cadets start whispering around him, eyes shinning in awe. “It is with great pleasure that I can announce the crew who will be leading this mission: Samuel Holt, Matthew Holt, and Shirogane Takashi. I hope news of this mission will inspire you all to strive and work as hard as these three men have.” The bell interrupted him, sending the teens into an excited uproar to get out of the classroom. He yells a dismissal after them, but Keith is too excited and happy that he ignores it, books it straight to Shiro’s class. He has to wait for most of the class occupants to leave before Shiro does, laughing as one of the people who ate with them on his birthday ruffles his hair. His eyes are bright as they wave goodbye to each other, Shiro turning and almost running into Keith. 

“Keith!” he yells, reaching down to gather him up in his arms in a tight hug, laughing again. Keith grins and gives him the best hug he can from the angle Shiro’s holding him at. Shiro sets him down with a smile, slinging an arm around his shoulder and directs him to the Union. Others are walking up around them, giving Shiro a slap on the back or quick hug on his other side, congratulating him before leaving again. It’s happening so fast that Keith’s happy mood isn’t enough to fend off the nervous pang in his stomach, but he is able to brush it off in the moment.

He sits with Shiro and some of his friends at lunch. Matt’s there despite having never been in this lunch before, chatting and grinning ear to ear as they approach. It’s a whirlwind of conversation and Keith gets dizzy snapping his head to all sides to see who’s talking and when until he finally gives up, choosing to only focus on what Shiro’s says. He picks at his food in silence, small smile appearing when Shiro laughs loudly at what one of the table’s occupants says. 

“You and Matt should probably be nicer to each other,” the guy sitting next to Matt says, “Since you’re going to be spending about ten months together.” 

The table is laughing and talking so loud that no one hears the clatter Keith’s fork makes against his plate. He sits frozen, smile instantly wiped off his face at what he’d just heard. He retracts his hand to his lap, thoughts swarming as he tries his best to tune everything out. 

_Ten months._

xxx 

Shiro doesn’t question Keith on his sudden quietness that night, not on the way to his room or when he’s shutting the light off. He zoned out for most of his afternoon classes and was silent throughout dinner, sitting stock-still in the same situation he had been at lunch. It's so unlike how he'd been the last few months that it makes Keith dizzy and sick and so unbearably tired throughout dinner, not hearing a word said. 

He’d almost left afterwards, contemplating if he should just go to his own room for the night instead. He talks himself out of it, using not wanting to be around his roommate as an excuse to be with Shiro longer because _ten months._ Ten months he won’t be able to do what he is now, to sit in the company of his friend and sneak away to his room, despite it _technically_ being against Garrison regulation to not be in your assigned room on weeknights. He won’t be able to watch TV while talking with Shiro or steal his shower or drink hot chocolate whenever he wanted because Shiro will be in space and he _won’t,_ and it feels wrong. It feels wrong for Shiro to be living his dream without Keith by his side. 

And maybe he’s selfish, but Keith had never imagined a time that Shiro would be on a mission and he wouldn’t. He knew he was a gifted flyer, knew he could probably move through the ranks fast and in a year or two be with Shiro. He feels stupid for thinking that the Garrison would wait for him, would postpone missions for years just because Keith thought they would, just so he could be in the sky with his best friend. 

It’s almost funny how that thought had even appeared, given how Keith’s life had played out thus far. As if anything had ever waited on him before, given him the advantage so he could be great: not his teachers, the foster parents, or his own father. Keith would laugh if his throat didn’t feel so torn up and his lungs didn’t feel full of rocks with the emotion weighing on him.

Shiro slides into the bed next to him, close enough that his back presses against Keith’s. He can feel the warmth of him through their shirts and it brings a new wave of feelings that Keith isn’t sure how to address. It leaves him feeling sick, knowing that in too short of a time he won’t be able to feel this for so long. Knowing that this body and it’s warmth will leave with only memories in it’s wake for so long that it feels like death. 

Keith shoves a knuckle between his teeth as squeezes his eyes shut, _ten months_ repeating so loud in his head that he thinks he’s fallen into a nightmare.


	12. twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith works, stresses, shops, and drinks fake wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoyo yo it's me i'm back from the grave  
> this chapter!! did not want to be written I swear. It didn't help that i've been without my computer/time to write for the better half of two weeks. i had wanted it to be around 5k but it ended up somewhere around 3.9k words and I gave up lol  
> note for end of the chapter for those who don't know: sparkling grape by welch's is like fake champagne/whatever and is amazing

Keith’s cheek is squished against his arm as he watches Shiro fold t-shirts and jeans, shoving them away into a suitcase.

His own belongings sit feet away from the bed; small bag slumped against the wall. It’s strained more than it was when he first arrived, the extra space now being taken up by the jacket Shiro had given him, the gloves and boots he’d gotten for holiday, and a worn t-shirt of an old band that Shiro let him borrow then never asked for again (Keith feels shameful for taking it but he wears it to bed on nights he can’t sleep and he’s not ready to part with the small comfort it gives when Shiro can’t). His books sit under the bag, stacked high but small enough that he doesn’t think twice about leaving one.

The Garrison is closing for the summer, requiring all persons to vacate the school by evening tomorrow. Keith’s first bus leaves at nine the next morning and Shiro has to be at the airport by ten and it’s almost relieving to Keith that he’ll be the one being seen off this time.

They’ve both been silent most of the night, sitting in Keith’s room while he packed before moving onto Shiro’s. Keith’s roommate had left the day before, thank God, leaving them both in calm while he had gathered his few belongings. Shiro doesn’t comment on the glimpse he catches of Keith’s knife, choosing instead to stare at the floor. The halls are more empty than they were around Holiday, leaving them surrounded in silence that feels more like a death sentence than peace.

Neither wants to voice what the following months will hold. Neither wants to confront what’s hanging between them, knowing that this time spent together might be their last chance.

The future is unclear and it terrifies them.

Shiro stops when most of his belongings are placed inside his black suitcase and carry-on, setting them on the floor next to the bed. He shuts off the light without asking Keith if he had planned on staying because he _knows,_ knows that every moment they can spend together before the next two and a half months they will.

Shiro slides into the bed next to Keith and pulls the covers over them, silent as he has been the last few days. His back presses against Keith’s and he can feel their breaths even out in time.

xxx

Keith feels like every morning in Shiro’s room goes much faster than it should.

Shiro’s been packing since they woke up, looking in every cabinet and drawer for something he might’ve missed. Keith still hasn’t gotten out of bed, choosing to pull the covers over his chin and watch as Shiro moves around the room frantically. Not before long, they’re standing in the front corridor, Keith shifting on his feet as they wait for the bus to arrive. His bag is slung over his shoulder, fingers gripping the strap tightly as he looks at anything but Shiro. There are only four other people waiting for pick up, all too immersed in their phones or thoughts to acknowledge them.

Shiro elbows Keith lightly and Keith has to force himself to look up at him. Black eyes stare into his and Shiro is ever the picture of calm as he asks, “Are you…?”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence for Keith to know what he’s trying to say. _Coming back_ has been on their minds for weeks, reappearing before Keith had even started filling out his forms for the following year. So much plays into it that it isn’t a simple question, hard to answer because he doesn’t know. If everything depended upon his grades and flight records he wouldn’t worry, but there’s the issue of the much-needed scholarship. If the Garrison doesn’t give him a full ride he can kiss his dreams of flying away, knows that he’ll never be able to pay any part of the tuition if he isn’t given the same chance he was his first enrollment.

Keith clears his throat and answers the only way he can, saying, “If they’ll let me,” because that’s what it boils down to.

He can hear the other occupants of the room getting up, signaling that the bus has arrived, and Keith wants to say so much more but he can’t find his words. It’s Shiro who pulls him into a hug, arms wrapped tight around him, Keith returns it softly, shoving his face into Shiro’s shoulder before starting to pull away. He feels a warm pressure against his forehead last minute and doesn’t have time to think about it before Shiro is waving him off and he’s outside the Garrison doors and onto a bus.

xxx

A knock sounds on his door a little past noon the next day and Keith groans, pulling his thing pillow over his head.

“Hey Keith,” Abby yells through the door, “Get your ass up. You’re either going to help out around here or find a job, I’m not letting you waste your summer sleeping!”

“That’s what summer’s for,” he yells back but rolls out of the bed anyways, planting his feet on the floor and stretching his arms high above his head. His back pops and he lets out a sigh, scratching his stomach as he makes his way to his dresser, pulling out a pair of jeans, boxers, and the shirt Shiro had given him.

Leaving the Garrison didn’t mean leaving communal showers, to Keith’s constant dismay. He sets his clothes on a bench and turns on the water, instantly missing the water pressure that Shiro’s personal shower had. It’s enough to wash away the aches in his body from sitting in plastic bus seats and train cars that are always too cold and help him clear his mind for the upcoming rest of his day.

He dries off and wiggles into his clothes, wrapping the towel around his shoulders to shield the dark gray fabric of his t-shirt from his sopping wet hair. He makes it back to his room, managing to only run into one child who is running way too fast through the halls, and pulls on socks and the boots he’d gotten for holiday. He hadn’t gotten many chances to wear them while at school so they still look brand new and pretty enough that Keith cares even less today if his outfit matches than he usually does.

He hops down the stairs and into the kitchen where some of the workers are cleaning up post lunch, elbowing Abby in the side and stealing a left over sandwich at the same time. She shoves him back and grins, wiping down the counter.

“I thought you’d never wake up. So what’s the plan, Stan?”

He leans against the kitchen island and takes a bite of the sandwich, swallowing before saying, “Job.” Another bite. “Probably two. Want to get rich.”

She laughs and slaps him with the towel when he stands. “You better get started now then. Don’t forget about us when you’re swimming in money.” He waves at her as he leaves the kitchen, stopping short to avoid running over two nine year old girls before moving towards the front door.

He first stops at the gas station he’d worked at during winter break. One phone call later and he is able to convince the manager to give him the morning shift for the summer, six days a week with minimum wage, the rest of the day not included in his schedule. It’s far better than the last deal he’d made and Keith is slightly proud of his negotiating skills. It’s the same attendant who was working last time that hangs up the stores phone after Keith finishes making the deal.

“Real talk though, where do you even come from? Why do you even want to work here?” he asks, swerving his chair to the side and motioning for Keith to follow him. Keith shrugs before he realizes he can’t see him and pipes up.

“I go to school out of town during the year. I try to work during breaks to make some extra money.” The attendant shrugs this time, crouching low to shove items in the box around.

“Fair enough,” he starts, turning his head to glance at Keith. “Is your shirt size a small or x-small?”

xxx

Keith walks through town with a red t-shirt with the gas stations logo across the front hung over his shoulder, glancing in shop windows for any kind of ‘now hiring’ sign. He eventually finds one in a small café and he walks through the front door and approaches the front counter.

“Hello, how may I help you?” a woman currently in front of the cash register asks, typing up a ticket without looking.

He looks her in the eyes and blinks, says, “I’m here about the job?” and watches as realization dawns on her. She nods and sets down the ticket, murmuring ‘just one second’ before disappearing in the back. It’s not long before she reappears with a stout old man, dishtowel hung over one shoulder and apron over the other. He’s wiping steam off his glasses when the woman points Keith out, who lifts his hand in a small wave. The man steps around the counter and smiles at him, motioning to one of the two-person tables near the front window.

“Come, sit,” he says in a friendly voice, waiting until Keith looks comfortable to speak. “So you’re here about the job?” Keith nods. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Keith Kogane,” he responds. A salt and pepper colored eyebrow lifts and a soft chuckle leaves the old man.

“Kogane’s an unusual name around here,” he says, which almost makes Keith laugh because he’s _from_ around here. “Nice to meat you, Keith. My name’s Patrick Henry, most around here just call me Pat. We’re looking for a busboy slash dishwasher, you up for it?”

Keith was pretty sure getting a job at a nice café was supposed to be harder than this. Hell, getting a job at the _gas station_ had involved more background questions and skepticism than he was going through now. He nods anyways, causing the old man to grin.

“Great! Just fill this out and I’ll review it when you’re done.” He stands and grabs papers from behind the counter, returning with a pen. He sets them in front of Keith, revealing that it’s a job application. Keith pulls it closer to himself slowly, reading over it as the old man returns to the back. It doesn’t take him long to fill it out, listing the hours he’ll be able to work when he’s not at his other job, and hands it to the girl at the counter again. She thanks him and asks him to come back tomorrow for their decision.

It leaves him wandering the rest of the day. He’s not in the mood to return back to the orphanage since all he can do there is sleep or wander around. He helps out where he can but Abby is the only one that’ll let him actively work, the others telling him he can relax because they have it handled. There’s not much to do in town either and he ends up downtown, walking pass shops and small cafes. He still has almost all the money he’d saved from holiday break in his wallet in his pocket, and he uses some to buy lemonade while he walks around. He humors the idea of a haircut for a minute before deciding that if it’s manageable, it can wait.

He stops in a few shops, thumbing through t-shirts and jeans. He finds a resale shop near the end of the strip, holding a bag with a soft gray tank top inside and half empty lemonade when he steps in. The shopkeeper gives him a small wave but stays silent as he walks around.

The walls are lined with paintings and photographs, there are glass cabinets with old knick-knacks in some and guns and knives in others, and racks of clothing in the back. He ends up near the racks, lazily moving clothing aside until he sees it.

It’s a cropped red jacket that resembles Keith’s boots far too much for it to be a coincidence. He pulls it off the rack to get a better look at it, eyeing the price tag. It’s more than affordable, almost a steal, and the size it a little bigger than what he currently wears but he knows he’ll grow into it. He looks around a bit more, clutching the jacket to his chest as he does, before he makes a stop at the check out counter. He bounces slightly on the balls of his feet while the shopkeeper counts the cash he gave before stuffing the jacket into a bag and holding it out to Keith. They give a lazy and smile and wave as he leaves, crooning ‘come again’ after him.

It’s not long of a walk back to the orphanage. Keith thinks he spots an old school mate at one point, making his pace pick up and he’s able to make it back in record time. It’s almost six and the workers are busy gathering the children for dinner, ushering them into the dinner hall and pulling toys and gadgets from behind their sneaky backs. Keith takes the stairs two at a time and shuts his bedroom door behind him, tossing his bags on his bed and setting what’s left of his lemonade on his desk. He takes the new jacket out of the bag and slips it on, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms out to admire the fit.

A knock on his door is immediately followed by it being opened, Abby’s face peaking through the crack. She lifts an eyebrow at him, pushing the door open wider and leaning against the doorway.

“You do know it’s summer, right?” he huffs at her, drawing the jacket closer around him defensively.

“What do you want?” he asks, dropping onto the bed to start undoing his boots.

“Dinners ready. Spaghetti and meat balls,” she says, watching with amusement as his face twists slightly. He’d always been more open with his pickiness around her. She sighs, lifting a hand. “I did make you waffles, though they’re probably getting cold sitting on the counter.” Keith lets a small grin take over his features, standing from the bed to shrug his new jacket off.

“Thank you,” he says, walking out of the room. Abby pushes off the doorway and follows him, both walking in silence to the kitchen.

xxx

Keith wipes his wet hands on a towel, untying the apron he keeps over his black jeans.

It’s his second week of summer and working at the café, and they’d just finished for the day. It’s almost dark outside when he finally leaves, pulling his bag that he keeps under the counter over his shoulders. He walks through the town slowly, watching through store windows as they start to close for the day.

Keith was sure that if he was working any other jobs that his life would be much more stressful going from job to job. The gas station is blissfully easy most days, the only issue being when he has to interact with the attendant whose shift is after his. He keeps a set of keys to the station since he’s usually the one to open. There’s a good amount of morning traffic that keeps him busy but not stressed and his shift passes far faster than it used to.

From there he walks to the café, ducking into the bathroom to change from his red t-shirt to a black one, picking up his apron with the café’s logo across it. He works lunch and dinner rush and everything in between, ducking between the back and foyer often. He picks up slack for the other waitress, Jamie, when it starts to get too busy or she has to duck out for a minute. He makes pretty decent pay and tips and manages to keep his temper under wraps, though still gets jabs from Pat when he sets a dish bucket down a bit too forcefully. He and Jamie get free dinner too, once the café has closed but before they start to clean up. It’s calm and fun, and Keith can almost forget what life was like before now.

Almost is the key word though, because Keith still eyes his already read piloting and mathematics books next to the bed, can see the physics packet sticking out from between them. He wakes up everyday and sees the slip of paper with Shiro’s contact information and the website he needs to visit to register for his second year.

It’s that slip of paper that leads Keith to the secondhand shop after work at the end of his fourth week, wallet full of cash that he’d saved up and eyes scrutinizing. He ends up with an older model phone that works, makes texts and calls and that’s all he really needs anyways. Despite having the new gadget, it still takes him three days to work up the nerve to text Shiro, a quick message to let him know that he’d gotten a phone, was working, and was wondering how his summer was going. It only takes a few hours for Shiro to respond, friendly as ever.

 _It’s great that you were able to find something to fill your summer!_ Keith reads, _I’m doing great. My mom and I are traveling Europe right now, sorry for the late reply haha. We’re going to have to spend more time in the gym when we get back to the Garrison, I haven’t worked out since the first week of summer._

Keith smiles at the message, tucked under his comforter in the corner of his bed when he types out his reply, a simple _yeah_ because he has so much to say to fit it in a text and isn’t evens sure _how_ to say it.

xxx

It’s the start of his sixth week of summer when Keith sits at the old desktop computer in the orphanage study, Abby hanging over his shoulder.

Second year registration had opened early that morning and Keith had practically ran back after work, headed straight for the study when he’d gotten back. The left side of his jeans are still soaked from spilling ice water on himself in his rush to finish early but he can’t feel it, body drawn tight from anxiety and anticipation.

He reads over his application four times before he gets Abby to click submit for him, hands shaking too much to hold the computer mouse steady. He stares at the white screen with _application submitted_ across the middle for what feels like forever before Abby manages to pull him from the desk chair and to his bedroom. He feels like he’s on autopilot as he strips off his jeans and work shirt, unknowingly pulling on a shirt he’d gotten rom Shiro before falling into a restless sleep.

xxx

It’s the start of his last week of summer when Keith comes back to the orphanage late, body tired from a busier day than usual. He hasn’t slept well since he’d submitted his application, eyes drooping and limbs too sore from tossing and turning at night. One of the older orphanage workers had commented on his worn appearance, made an off hand comment about how he’d always been the kind to work himself to the ground and wallow in his own worries and Keith doesn’t find any of her words helpful in the situation at all so he tunes her out after that.

Keith drops his stuff off in his room and changes into Shiro’s shirt and jacket quickly before walking back downstairs to get a glass of water form the kitchen. He can see that someone left the light in it on which strikes him as odd, since the workers try to conserve as much as possible to keep the bill down.

He pushes open the kitchen door and pauses, taking in the scene in front of him. Abby’s sitting on one side of the kitchen island holding a champagne glass, an identical one set out across from her. He recognizes them as the orphanages set, knows that only the workers use them on special occasions. He remembers when he was nine and got scolded for standing too close to the cabinet they were in, at the time thinking that they were being unfair getting him in trouble but now he knows that they were just being aware of his temper and habit of breaking things.

An open bottle of sparkling grape is set between the glasses, next to a letter with the words Galaxy Garrison in bold print across the paper.

“What’s this?” Keith asks, throat tight as he stares at the letter, Abby pats the countertop and Keith slowly moves to sit across from her, watching as she pours some sparking grape into his glass.

“Drink that,” Abby says, picking up her glass again, “then open the letter.” She takes a sip out of her glass, watching Keith eye the bubbling liquid. He drinks it slow, trying to calm his nerves and soothe his stomach and before he knows it the glass it empty, leaving his fingers tingling and pulse picking up.

Abby helps him open the letter. He doesn’t even read it, just picks out the words _accepted_ and _full scholarship_ and _class: fighter pilot._ Keith decides in that moment that every struggle he’d gone through in his life, from lack of parental care to bullying to living in a goddamn orphanage for the better part of ten years has been worth it, is worth it because he’d continuing his dream and getting all he’d ever wanted after _so fucking long._

He and Abby finish the bottle of sparkling grape, hiding the bottle in the trash and washing the glasses and putting them back in the cabinet. She picks up the letter and reads it for what must be the fiftieth time, hugs Keith tightly with glassy eyes. They finally part and he makes his way upstairs, followed by her saying _I knew you’d get in_ and that _you deserve this, you deserve so much more than you’d ever gotten the chance to have._

Keith presses Shiro’s phone number into his phone when he’d in bed, huddled in the corner in a shirt and jacket that’s not his with a blanket drawn tight around his body. He’s so excited that his words ramble out but Shiro picks up on _got in_ and _fighter pilot_ and it’s excited congratulations that make Keith’s chest tighten with happiness well into the week.

Right before they have to get off the phone, Shiro saying that he has something with his family to get to, the older man says, “I guess we’ll get to fly together one day after all.”

And Keith croaks out a soft _yeah_ and he hangs up, clutching his phone to his chest while he sleeps deeper than he has in weeks.

Keith starts packing the next day, more rested than he’d been all summer.


	13. thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> garrison home sweet home amiright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think the most enjoyable part of updating is getting to bullshit a chapter summary
> 
> also i wrote the majority of this chapter listening to a compilation of all marceline songs from adventure time and i don't even care i'm living. also chapters are taking longer because i'm pretty unhappy with my writing and really only work on chapters nowadays to distract myself from the pile of undone summer work i have for aplac so my way of trying to fix that was try to shove as many innuendos and things that could be taken wrong as much as i could so lmaooo at that
> 
> i feel like there was something important i needed to tell you guys but i forgot! so lets hope it didn't matter much!

Keith got a bigger bag for his trip back to the Garrison and he actually manages to sleep on the way up there, this time.

He’s not sure if he just doesn’t remember correctly or if there really are less people on the Garrison bus than his first time and more parents milling about, dropping off their kids. He can’t even remember seeing any parents last year, which probably has to do with the fact that he got there the earliest he could and stayed shut in his room. His old roommate made the trip alone, saying his parents had to work and couldn’t take him. 

That’s not the case for his new roommate, apparently. 

Keith entered the building and signed in and got his room key and it felt so normal and like nothing was different, though it took conscious effort to not walk straight to his old room and even more to not head to Shiro’s. He’s not even sure the older man is here yet, knows that if he is his room is definitely going to be different, not the same one they’d spent so much of their time in the year prior. 

To say Keith is a little more than surprised when he enters his room and sees three people would be an understatement. They smile and wave at him before carrying on with whatever conversation they were having before, leaving Keith to himself. He sets the stack of books he’d had piled in his arms on the table and his bag on the bed, sitting down to start riffling through his belongings to decide what needs brought out and what could wait.

He’s halfway through his process when he notices his roommate’s dad staring at him and he really tries to avoid eye contact, _he really does,_ but he’s never liked being stared at without doing it back so he matches the middle aged mans gaze a second later. 

It seems he was waiting on that, because he immediately jumps into a conversation that Keith plays little part in. “How are you, son?” Keith mutters good, far too out of depth and confused why this random stranger just called him son. “So, you made the trip alone? Were your parents not able to bring you?” 

Keith isn’t sure what face he makes after that question but it apparently wasn’t the one the man had wanted, his salt and pepper mustache faltering for a second. Keith knows he should feel bad because the man looks like a kicked puppy but just who the hell does he think he is to ask about Keith’s life? Why would Keith even answer him, it’s his business and this man has no right to know anything about him, and now Keith is slightly pissed off and opens his mouth to- 

“Keith!” 

 _Oh,_ is all Keith’s mind supplies and suddenly his anger is dissolving quicker than it has in months. He looks at his door and there in all his glory is the Garrison’s Golden Boy, Mr. Shirogane Takashi, smiling down at him and leaning against the doorway. 

It only takes a quick glance to see his roommate’s jaw is dropped in what must be awe, even his parents look a bit surprised and Keith just thinks _come on,_ because honestly, it’s just Shiro? And yeah, so what if Keith might be a bit desensitized to him by now, but he’s just a person. 

Shiro flashes a smile to the roommate and his family, gives what would be a charming half shrug to anyone who didn’t know him, but to Keith it just looks ridiculous enough to bring a lazy grin to his lips. 

“Sorry to interrupt your, uh, talk?” Shiro supplies, eyes flickering back to Keith, “but I need to borrow him for a second.” The dad nods quickly and Shiro’s in the room, hand circling Keith’s wrist quickly and tugging him out of the room, giving a small wave before they disappear down the hall. 

Shiro starts laughing when they’re far enough from the room, slinging an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “Oh man, I seriously thought you were going to maim that man,” he says and Keith scowls, shoving his fist into Shiro’s hip. 

“Was not,” is all he can get out before Shiro pulls him into a tight hug, still laughing and with way more energy that Keith remembers him having. 

Shiro glances him up and down once he lets him go and Keith’s brow furrows at the gaze. “Uh-.” 

“You put on weight,” he says, ignoring Keith’s outraged scoff. “Oh grow up, I’m not calling you fat. You just look healthier. Wasn’t that like, the entire point of those months I spent breathing down your neck about eating properly?” Keith thinks back and shrugs. 

“I guess I have been eating pretty well.” 

Shiro huffs a laugh before knocking his shoulder into him. “Keep it up. So, you want to see my new room? 

Keith doesn’t even bother to answer him, already being steered in the direction of it before the question fully comes out of Shiro’s mouth. His room is near the beginning of the officer/instructor wing for those that stay on campus and much closer to Keith’s now that he’s in the second year wing. Shiro swipes his key card into the door, talking as he pushes it open. 

“My room’s closer now, but you’re going to have to be more careful about sneaking in and out on week days.” He pauses for a minute, watching Keith plop himself down on the bed that’s now shoved into the left corner of the room instead of right. “And, uh, not that it’s been brought up to me yet, but we should probably limit the time spent alone in here, since I’m an instructor now and it probably isn’t looked at as appropriate…” 

Keith arched an eyebrow at him. “What, are you worried about being accused of picking favorites?”

Shiro rolled his eyes, shoving Keith towards the wall to sit on the end of the bed. “I just don’t want my chance to be ruined before it starts, you know? Plus, if I were worried about being accused of picking favorites, I would’ve thought of that a while ago. Everyone that cares knows that you’re one of the only people I hang out with.”

Keith shoves his feet into Shiro’s lap. “That’s because you have no friends,” he says, then, “Why do people care?”

Shiro scowls at him, immediately shoving his feet of his lap, only to have then replaced shortly after. “I have plenty of friends, they just have their own lives, unlike you. I hang out with you out of pity.” 

It’s Keith’s turn to roll his eyes, kicking off his boots. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Another pause, then, “Why would they care?” 

“Huh? Oh,” Shiro shoves away from the bed, walking to the box sitting on top of his new desk. “You know, because of our status. Not that status matters at all or anything, but it’s interesting to some.” 

“What’s our status?" 

Shiro starts taking items out of the box, not looking back at Keith. “You know, the whole golden boy and best pilot of your generation thing. It actually seems pretty inevitable that we’d become good friends.” He doesn’t catch the way Keith’s eyebrows furrow at his words, but he does notice the confusion in his voice when he asks, “Best pilot thing?” 

Shiro looks over his shoulder, intending to throw him an exasperated glance but it slips off his face when he notices the pure confusion. “You seriously haven’t heard that?” Keith shakes his head once, overgrown hair falling into his face. He should’ve gotten that hair cut when he’d had the chance. “The whole thing about the Garrison officials seeing you as the best pilot of your generation and all? How have you not heard about that? It’s the only thing they talked about when discussing first years last year.” 

Keith’s mouth gapes slightly and he can feel his skin flushing at the words. “They say that about me? Why?” 

Shiro shoots him an incredulous look. “Really, Keith? Because you beat every sim score recorded for first and second years within your first semester, almost beat the third year sim score. You even beat the high score I set my first and second year, when they’d refer to me kind of like the way they do for you. I’m pretty sure the whole school knows by now. Have they not even _mentioned_ this to you?” 

Keith scrapes his mind before shrugging. “They’ve made some comments before but I, uh, didn’t know they thought of me like _that._ They usually just refer to me as ‘top of the class’ or something like that.”

Shiro’s brow furrows and for a moment he looks so _done_ with Keith before his nose scrunches up and he lets out a loud laugh. “Holy shit,” he wheezes, “How did everyone manage to know more about you as a pilot than you did?”

Keith’s flush comes back full force, covering his face with his hands before rolling over. “Shut up, you jerk,” he says, voices muffled into the sheets because yeah, Keith knew he was pretty good for a kid but hearing what the officials say crosses the line from amazement at the idea to embarrassment. Passing comments made by his professors and flight instructor that Keith had brushed off came back in full force, making Keith blush harder. _God,_ he thought, _no wonder all the other kids looked at me like I’m an asshole._  

“This is a good thing, you know? It’ll make it easier on you to get future missions if you’re already being looked at like that already.”

That’s enough to snap Keith from his thoughts, rolling over to glance at Shiro over his shoulder. His back is still to him, placing objects around on his desk during the conversation. Keith’s next words are timid as he flops over onto the pillow. “Like when we get to fly together?” 

Shiro’s shoulders slope the slightest, small smile unseen by Keith finding home. He turns around and Keith sees that smile, incredibly soft and hopeful, before Shiro says, “Yeah. Just like when we get to fly together.” 

Shiro can feel Keith’s happiness radiating from his smile. 

xxx 

It’s later on in the day that the Garrison has a welcoming meeting for students, faculty, and parents in the auditorium they rarely use. 

Faculty and officials are standing on the stage, lined up by rank, and it takes quite a bit out of Keith to not snicker at Shiro in his instructor uniform from his seat in the front left corner (because old habits run deep and Keith feels safer closer to the exit). He stares forward for most of it but his eyes stray to Keith every now and then, matching stares before he becomes the picture of grace that everyone expects out of the Garrison’s golden boy. 

The whole thing is boring as hell and leaves Keith actively having to remind himself to not slump in his chair in front of so many officials. He bolts when they’re finally dismissed, shoving his hands in his pockets as he books it through the halls. Shiro had given Keith his key card before they’d left knowing that Keith would make it back before him and probably shouldn’t be left in the middle of the hallway with so many adults going past. 

He swipes the card and enters the room, kicking his shoes off by the door. He’d grabbed his uniform and stuff for classes the following day, leaving a note on his roommate’s desk to not wait up on him tonight. He falls onto the bed immediately, shimmying his way under a thick blanket and relaxing while he waits for Shiro. 

It takes him all of ten minutes to arrive, opening the unlocked door and lifting a brow at Keith as a form of greeting.

“Welcome back Officer Shirogane,” he greets, grinning at the exasperated sigh Shiro lets out and he starts untying his boots. 

“You know, being addressed by my last name is probably going to be the worst part of this,” he says, “Everyone’s going to start calling me Shirogane and I don’t think I can handle that.” 

“You’re so overdramatic,” Keith says, watching Shiro shrug off his shirt, leaving him in his white tank top he wears under his uniform. 

Shiro huffs at him, walking over to his dresser and pulling out a pair of sweats. “It’ll be an easy switch for you, since it was like pulling teeth to get you to call me Shiro in the first place.” 

“You’re so full of shit,” Keith accuses, eyebrows furrowing, “I called you Shiro, like, the second day you talked to me.” 

That’s not what I remember,” he sings, disappearing into the bathroom.

“Yeah, well, you remember wrong,” Keith retorts. He settles back down, trying to fight off the urge to cross his arms across his chest. He patiently waits for Shiro to get done in the bathroom before he slides out of the covers, grabbing his change of clothes and walking towards the bathroom.

“Do you only use me for my shower?” Shiro asks, humming at Keith’s small head bob. “This one is smaller than the other for some reason, so have fun.” 

“I could care less about the size of the bathroom, it’s the fact that it’s _private_ ,” and with that Keith closes the door and goes about glancing over the bathroom. 

It is smaller than the last one, but not by much. It’s almost the same layout as the one before, just flipped. It feels normal as Keith gets ready for his shower, steps in to find out that the water gets much hotter than the last one. He knows Shiro’s going to make fun of his yelp he’d let out when he gets down, so he takes extra time and uses plenty of Shiro’s hair care products. 

He finally gets out, lazily towel drying his hair as he sits down near the foot of the bed, effectively obscuring Shiro’s view of the TV. He groans in response, kicking Keith with his foot until he finally manages to shove him off with a hard kick to the butt. Keith reluctantly gets up and shoves at Shiro’s arm. “Scoot over, I want to lay down.” 

Shiro scrunches his nose at him. “Who the hell do you think you are? I’m not sleeping near the wall.”

Keith huffs. “Well neither am I.”

“Then I guess you better leave.” 

“…” 

Keith climbs over Shiro, shaking his hair like a wet dog as he went over. 

“Hey!” Shiro yells, shoving at Keith as he laughs. He huffs and pulls the towel from Keith’s hands, wrestling to get him to sit still and quickly drying it for him. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to dry your hair before you get into bed. You’re making a mess.” 

Keith shrugs, settling under the blankets. “Towel drying it the way you do makes it poofy.” 

“Better than my bed getting soaked every time you stay over.” 

Keith rolls his eyes before turning his back to Shiro, making himself comfortable. “You know, this would be easier if we just rearranged the furniture like your old room.” 

Shiro hums but doesn’t respond, probably too focused on whatever it is he’s watching. It’s ten minutes later when he shuts the TV and lights off, pulling back the covers and settling next to Keith. Then, “Keith?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Your hair has gotten long.” _God freaking-._  

“Shiro, why- go to sleep?” Keith huffs, reaching a hand back to push the hair off the back of his neck. 

“Mm. Okay.”

Shiro scoots a little, hides it as trying to get comfortable until his back is pressed up against Keith’s. Having him so close along with using his shampoo brings back his natural scent that’s long since worn off of the stolen clothes and calm washes over Keith easily, letting him fall into the deepest sleep he’d had in months.

xxx

Keith goes back to his room after dinner, having stayed in Shiro’s after class to help him finish unpacking and look over his class list. He’s only assisting first and second year sim class, but was told that they were going to overlook ‘assisting’ and ask him to more so run the class the semester before the Kerberos mission so he’d get a stronger feel for leadership. 

His sudden appearance apparently startles his roommate, who promptly jumps nearly out of his skin. 

“Ah- H-hey, Keith,” he says, closing whatever book he was reading. Keith nods at him in greeting, dropping his bag on the foot of the bed and settling in the corner, pulling out his homework.

He gets in five minutes of blessed quiet before his roommate speaks up and Keith suddenly misses his roommate from the year before. He was weird and slightly annoying but at least the dude never bothered to talk to Keith. 

“Um, Keith? Not to pry, but do you… do you not stay in the room at night often? I’m just wondering because it is _technically_ against the rules to-.”

Keith cuts him off because he’d heard the rule reiterated to him hundreds of times by Shiro before the older boy had given up and he really isn’t in the mood to have a conversation just yet. 

“Yeah. Just don’t mention it and it’ll be fine. If I get caught it’s my deal, not yours.” 

The roommate shuts up after that and yeah, Keith feels a little bad for cutting him off because the dude seems to mean well but come on, it’s obvious Keith has done this before and if he didn’t care then, then why should he now? 

The kid’s silent and Keith can work in peace, until- 

“Hey, Keith? Can you teach me to fly well?” 

_God fucking-_


	14. fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sims and dates and sims and dates and sims and dates and sims and-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowza this was a bitch to write lmao
> 
> also I'm currently dying with AP classes, I'm not smart enough for this shit
> 
> I've had the doc for this opened multiple times a week since July and couldn't get more than two thousand words out and I just cranked out the remaining three thousand words in two hours. go thanksgiving break :)
> 
> ps for anyone who cares, my thoughts on season 3 and 4 that came out during my absence : ??????????? is my son okay ???????

When Keith and his team step out of the simulator, his shoulders tense with agitation as Iverson, the flight instructor for second and third years, beams down at him.

Keith misses his instructor from his first year much more than he ever thought he would. They’re only three and a half months into the first semester and Keith’s sure he’s almost died from embarrassment because of Iverson’s praise _at least_ four times now. His old instructor used to nod and typically said something bland like ‘very good’ while Iverson turns Keith’s achievement into shame for the rest of the class, which _really_ isn’t going over well with them. If Keith thought they didn’t like him before, he knew now. 

Shiro usually tries to help, always stepping in after shame-fests with encouraging words and choosing another group for the sim. His efforts only do so much since Iverson’s angry words always follow any praise Shiro gives out to the other cadets. 

Iverson had even brought Keith’s scores from the year prior with him one day, counting the total amount of records Keith had surpassed in his time at the Garrison and making them public knowledge to his classmates, to Keith’s horror. The whole situation reminded him of the asshole kids in his hometown who used to brag about how good at sports or academics they were and how much he’d hated hearing about it. No wonder everyone in the class started glaring at him when he’d step out of the simulator. 

Despite the fact that Shiro more or less runs the sim classes for his year, Iverson usually oversees all of Keith’s flights. Shiro’s lucky to get a word in when Keith steps down from the platform, view usually being obstructed as Iverson pushed his way in front of Shiro. Keith can see the thin-lipped _I’m sorry_ smiles Shiro sends him over Iverson’s shoulder, can see how Shiro eyes his tense shoulders and gritted expression when Iverson talks. The praise had gotten to Keith enough to where he had asked Shiro how he dealt with it when he was a cadet under Iverson. 

“How to handle Iverson’s praise?” he’d asked after Keith had vented about it from his cocoon he’d made out of Shiro’s blankets. “Well, I had the advantage of being friends with most people in my class, so they knew that what he said didn’t reflect what I thought. For the most part, I just ignored it and tried to encourage my classmates to do so as well.” 

Keith remembers how he’d replied with a snarky _yeah, that’ll work_ out of frustration before rolling over and glaring at the wall. He wishes now that he hadn’t have been such an ass and taken the advice now, already feeling the hateful looks as he walks down the ramp. His eyes catch Shiro’s for a brief second, small smile thrown his way before looking forward again. 

He’s staring straight ahead as he walks up to Iverson, ready to hear any critique or praise he had gathered from the fifteen minute session this time.

“As always, you did excellent, Kogane,” he says, “Everyday, you prove yourself in comparison to the other cadets here. You remind me of a more advanced Shirogane, which is to expected of the best pilot of your generation!” _Ah, there it is._

Iverson’s taken to mentioning Shiro any chance he’s gotten lately, with the Kerberos mission coming up and all, much to the Shiro’s embarrassment and Keith’s exasperation. The comparison has led to multitudes of accusations, from other cadets claiming he’s been getting extra training with Shiro all the way to more disturbing (and uncomfortable) claims surrounding the nature of his friendship with Shiro. The smiles Shiro gives him during class and the fact that they eat lunch and walk to class together when they can doesn’t help them any, of course. 

There’s also the _best pilot in your generation_ claim. It seems like since Shiro had told him about it, it’s all he hears _anywhere._ His professors even refer to him like that sometimes, in little notes under his graded papers reading _wouldn’t expect any less from the best pilot of your generation :) 100/100_ or something like that. 

Keith knows that praise like that is rare, so hard to come by that Shiro, golden boy prodigy, hadn’t ever been referred to like that. He wants to feel proud of himself when he gets called that but he just _can’t._ It’s frustrating, really, that he’s dedicated his life to being a pilot for so long, has worked so hard and he still doesn’t feel _right_. He _wants_ to accept the praise, _wants_ to be the best but he still feels like something’s missing, like he doesn’t deserve to be great at anything until he finds it, which only results in him being endlessly frustrated. It gets to the point where he almost approaches Shiro about it, barely holding back due to the fact that he doesn’t know _how_ to explain this feeling. 

“Thank you, Sir,” is all Keith can respond with, nodding and taking his place at the back of the classroom. He feels the other cadets’ glares on his back as he walks past them and tries to fight the urge to run a hand through his hair and fails miserably. He pushed his bangs back as he passes Shiro, keeping his eyes to the floor the whole time.

He still feels the dull pang of frustration and annoyance as he settles near the back of his classmates, though it’s not at them or even Iverson. With the Kerberos mission rapidly approaching, every second not spent in class has Shiro filling out paperwork or typing on a computer or just not around. Their training had become non-existent, Shiro usually too exhausted from Kerberos prep and training that he does before and after he teaches the sim class to work out with Keith. Time spent in the greenhouse has gone down too, the Friday occasion only happening twice since the year had started. Keith’s gone in there alone a couple of times, on days where Shiro skips lunch completely and hides out in his room or office, but he always leaves within minutes of getting there due to his discomfort with being alone in _their_ spot. 

Whatever time he does manage to be with Shiro outside of class is usually spent in silence or with clipped conversation as Keith does homework and Shiro finishes whatever tedious paperwork they had assigned him that day. Keith always finished first, leaving him to curl up in the blankets and watch as Shiro’s fingers move rapidly over the keyboard, back hunched as he works. He’s worrying him, from the late nights to deepening under eye bags to the tired slope of his shoulders. Keith finds himself wishing more often than not that Shiro didn’t have to go through this, wishes he wouldn’t have been chosen so his best friend could be healthy and happy and Keith could actually spend time with him again. 

Keith grits his teeth at his selfishness, fingers curling into fists as the next group steps up to the sim.

xxx 

Keith sighs against the pillow bunched in his arms, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the TV as he gazes at Shiro’s back. 

It’s officially the three-week mark from Kerberos launch and Keith isn’t sure he’d seen Shiro as busy or as stressed as he is right now. It’s nearly two in the morning on a Saturday, and Keith knows that no matter what time he goes to bed he’ll wake up at eight to finish whatever he has left to do. It’s irritating to be ignored during the little time Keith actually manages to be near Shiro but he can’t say he doesn’t get it.

He’s still gets it when Shiro finally stands from his desk, shuts the TV off, and bodily shoves Keith off his pillow and out of his spot before flopping down next to him, as silent as he was while he was working.

“You know,” Keith starts, waiting for Shiro’s grunt of acknowledgment, “At this rate, I think we’ll barely see each other before you leave.”

Shiro turns on his side to face Keith. “What do you mean?” his eyebrows draw together. “We see each other all the time, like in class and stuff. Look, we’re even doing it now. Go us.” 

Keith shoves his knuckles into Shiro’s shoulder, only stopping when Shiro wraps his fingers around his hand. “You know what I mean, asshole.” 

Shiro lets out a long sigh in response, closing his eyes. He rearranges himself on the bed, tucking his arm under his pillow before he looks at Keith again.

“Okay, I get it. This was supposed to be a surprise, but…” he trails off, watching Keith’s eyebrows jumped at ‘surprise’, leaning closer to Shiro in a silent plead to _go on._ “I have the weekend before the mission off to use as a ‘de-stressor’ and heard that there’s going to be a fair two towns over. I’d planned on taking you to hang out, but since you’re so intent on hanging out here…” 

“Oh _shut up,_ ” Keith says, pushing up from the bed to shove at Shiro in excitement. “You’re taking me to the fair? How long are we going to stay? Can I get cotton candy? Is cotton candy even _good?_ ” 

“Keith, _calm down,_ you’re going to wake a damn professor or something,” Shiro said, rolling onto his back and playfully grabbing Keith’s arms. “Wait, how have you never had cotton candy?” Keith shrugs and leans his elbow and forearm on Shiro’s chest, letting his hip dig into Shiro’s side in retaliation to his immobile hands. 

“How would I? I didn’t have many chances to go to the fair growing up,” he said easily, watching in amusement as realization dawns on Shiro’s face. “It’s whatever though. Tell me more about the weekend.” 

Shiro quirks a brow and drops one of Keith’s arms, using his free hand to shove Keith’s hip off of him. “I’m going to check out a Garrison vehicle so we don’t have to ride the bus. The town is about an hour away so I was thinking we could leave Friday after classes and stay there Friday and Saturday night and come back on Sunday, if that’s okay with you.” 

“And I get to eat all the fair food I want, right?” Keith asks, pulling his other arm from Shiro’s grip and turning his body to lie back on the bed. Shiro lifts an eyebrow and gives a mocking smile.

“Aw, picky eater boy _wants_ to eat nasty, greasy food?” 

Keith scoffs. “Of course.” 

xxx 

It feels like it takes years for the Friday to finally arrive. 

Iverson’s spent every waking moment making passing comments on the Kerberos mission, always giving Shiro a swift jab as he brags on his achievement. He briefly mentions the Holts, how students in the class could also be able to reach their level one day, but he spends most of his time trying to shape Keith into a new Shiro. His flying is getting praised slightly less than usual, time in the sim always being followed with a note or two on how he can better perform despite being closer to the top than anyone else. He’s okay with the comments though, can feel the glares on his back lessen with every word until he’s able to blend as well as he always had. 

Today’s sim session ended with Keith getting a near perfect score, higher than he’d gotten since the beginning of the year when the Kerberos panic had settled in and formed a distraction. His chest is swelling with pride as he walks down the ramp, team following closely behind him. He can see the small smile Shiro is throwing him from the other side of the room, excited gleam in his eyes undoubtedly matching Keith’s. 

Keith’s shaken from the eye contact when Iverson clamps a strong hand onto his shoulder, impressed gaze being cast from the tilted angle of his head. He gives a strong squeeze and a small burst of pain shoots through the bone, but even that isn’t strong enough to break Keith’s happiness.

“If you keep excelling at this rate, Kogane, you’ll land a mission long before official graduation. You’ll be able to excel past Shirogane, which is something to be prideful in and of itself. You’re a wonderful example of a Garrison cadet and others should strive to your level.” 

His words pass in one ear and out the other, Keith long caught up on the possibility of landing a mission. All he thinks of are missions lately, daydreaming about how Shiro’s will go and what it’ll be like when they inevitably land a mission together, how it’ll feel to explore space with his best friend. His chest fills to the brim with an unnamable emotion, throat feeling tight as he offers a quick nod and ‘thank you, sir’.

Iverson drops his hand and turns back to Shiro, giving a grin. “Any words for Kogane, Officer Shirogane?”

The attention of the room shifts to Shiro, everyone reading his unguarded expression of pride. He lets out a huff of amusement and drops his arms from their crossed position, one moving to place a hand on his hip before he speaks. “You did excellent, Kogane. It’d be an honor to fly with you one day.” 

Keith’s breath catches slightly before a small grin is returned, along with another quiet ‘thank you, sir’ before Iverson allows his to take his spot at the back of the room, mind reeling from the first praise that’d ever mattered to him.

Keith’s the first one out when they’re finally dismissed, quickly walking back to his room to change and grab his stuff. He and Shiro had decided during lunch to meet at the front gate as soon as possible, so he speeds along the process the best he can. He’s pulling his tee shirt over his head when he roommate finally appears, his old shy demeanor quickly replaced with a coy and overall agitating need to know all of Keith’s business.

He drops his bag onto the floor next to his bed while Keith sits to pull his boots on, glancing over his shoulder at him. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” is Keith’s short reply, pulling his other boot on. He stands and walks to his dresser, opening the first drawer.

“With Officer Shirogane?”

Keith doesn’t bother to respond, grabbing his clothes for the next two days and setting them on his bed. He hesitates when he starts pulling out pajamas, choosing to use two of Shiro’s shirts he’d stolen long before. He tosses his red racer jacket on the bed too, the Garrison’s heating making it unnecessary until he gets outside.

“So what, are you two best buds or something? Is he the reason you’re so good at piloting?” he asks. Keith shoots him a look and gets a shrug in reply. “What? You can tell me. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Keith rolls his eyes and sits back down on his bed to start emptying his bag. “Shiro has nothing to do with how I pilot. He’s not my teacher.”

“So it’s not like that?” he asks. “Why does he keep you around so much, then? Does it have something to do with you never being in the room at night? Is that how your presence _honors_ him?”

Keith snaps his head to the side, glaring harshly at him, while angrily shoving clothes into his bag. “What the fuck do you think you’re insinuating?” 

His roommate grins at him, reclining back onto his bed. “Nothing, nothing. You’re the one who makes it painfully obvious.”

“I can’t make anything obvious if it doesn’t exist.”

“Hey dude,” he says, “Not trying to make you upset of anything. I’d just hate to see you get hurt by the Garrison’s golden boy when he leaves, like, next week.” 

Keith stands from his bed and slings his bag over his shoulder, giving his roommate one last glare as he picks up his jacket. “I don’t care. Mind your own fucking business.”

The door closes behind Keith, not fast enough to cut off his roommate’s muttered ‘feisty’ makes it through and Keith is pretty sure that without all of Shiro’s _patience yields focus_ and anger management bullshit he’s pushed onto him, Keith might’ve actually reeled back to punch the door.

xxx

Keith walks to the front desk to check himself out for the weekend, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket while signing a release form the receptionist hands him. He checks his phone when he steps back from the desk, a short text from Shiro saying _waiting outside_ that spurs him to hurry up his steps until he bursts through the front doors, Garrison vehicle waiting for him. He slides in and gives Shiro a soft grin, letting the excitement be replaced by calm conversation of fair foods and their plans.

They check into the motel room they’ve rented for the weekend, both pretending to not notice the extra bed in the room and setting their bags on the one closest to the window. Shiro leaves to pick up Chinese food while Keith showers and channel surfs, returning with two take out boxes that he sets down in favor of fluffing Keith’s soaking hair with the towel around his neck. He slides into the bed on the other side and Keith’s not sure when they fall asleep, dreams full of fried rice, cotton candy, and spaceships.

Small streams of sunlight filter in through the blinds the next morning, illuminating the tangle of sheets and limbs. Keith wakes up at the first appearance of light but the warmth is enough to lull him into a half sleep for another hour until Shiro finally stirs behind him. He slips away with a soft pat of Keith’s head followed by the sound of the shower starting.

He comes out twenty minutes later, the sound of him shuffling through his bag pulling Keith awake again. He turns to say good morning, stopping short at the scene the graces him.

Shiro turns around from his spot in front of his bag on the other bed, free hand gripping the edge of his towel as he smiles at Keith. “Good morning,” he says, turning back to pull out a pair of jeans, boxers, and a tee shirt for the day. Keith hums in response, not able to do much else, watching as a few drops of waterfall from Shiro’s hair and trails down his back.

“If you don’t get up, we’re going never going to get to the fair,” Shiro says, only receiving another absent hum in response. He turns back, huffing a laugh at the half-asleep look Keith gives him. He chucks a shirt from his bag at him before grabbing his clothes, leaning out the door of the bathroom to say, “Get up and get ready, cadet,” before shutting the door behind him. Keith rolls his eyes but pulls himself from the covers anyways, lazily pulling on one of Shiro’s old tee shirts he’d stolen the year prior. He got halfway through pulling his jeans on before he flops back against the bed, pulling the covers partially over himself again.

Shiro pushes open the bathroom door, stopping to laugh loudly at the scene in front of him. Keith’s legs are sticking out of the blankets, jeans pooled around his ankles and a pillow thrown haphazardly over his face.

“Why are you so tired today?” He asks, kneeing the sole of Keith’s foot as he picks his phone up from the bedside table.

“Don’t know,” is what he gets in response, followed by a shimmying under the blankets and Keith effectively tugging his pants on, creating a hilarious scene despite himself. Shiro shakes his head before sitting on the bed next to him, lying back to crush Keith with his weight. There was a wheeze, followed by tight fists hitting his shoulders and arms. Shiro sat back up and took the pillow away from Keith’s face, staring at the mixture of tired and annoyed written across his face.

“You still want to go today? We can always do something else if you’re not feeling up to it,” Shiro says, setting the pillow back into its spot against the headboard. Keith pouts slightly, expression morphing into a yawn seconds later.

“’Till want to go,” he says, rolling onto his side. “Just need a few more minutes.” He pulls a pillow from Shiro’s side, shoving his face into it while holding it in a death grip. Shiro huffs a laugh and ruffles Keith’s hair, pulling away to continue getting ready.

xxx

Keith blinks his eyes open to the sound of the motel room door closing, turning sluggishly to regard Shiro. He drops the room key and car keys on the small table, setting a box of donuts down next to them. Keith shot up at the idea of sugar, hurrying over to open the box.

His mouth drops open and he looks up at Shiro in awe, not even bothered by the almost rough way he tousles his hair in reply. “If I knew all I had to do was buy you cake donuts to get you up, I would’ve done every time you tried to sleep in,” Shiro said, pulling out a small wooden chair from under the table and grabbing a donut. Keith copies him, taking a bite and groaning.

“This is the best day ever,” he says around the mouthful, ignoring Shiro’s light kick to his ankle for lack of manners. “You’re the best,” he says, making eye contact with Shiro.

Shiro’s breath hiccups, eyes widening at the honest and open look Keith gives him. He sucks in a breath and, as cliché as it is, swears he feels his heart skip a beat at the pure look of adoration on Keith’s face. It would have been a truly amazing moment in their friendship, full of more realizations than Shiro is comfortable with, if only sucking in a breath while eating had been a good idea. Doing so had ended with him effectively choking himself on a bite of donut, having to grab hold of the side of the table while in a coughing fit.

The fit slowly subsides, letting him hear the light sound of laughter over his coughs. He looked up and saw Keith’s hand pressed over his mouth; eyes squeezed shut as he laughed at Shiro’s misfortune. The situation would’ve annoyed him had it been anyone else, but he found Keith’s laugh endearing.

“Don’t be a little shit,” he says, voice slightly scratchy. Keith’s laughter dies down and he flops against the back of his chair, giving Shiro a self-satisfied smirk.

“At least I know how to not choke myself,” Keith teases, taking another bite of his donut. Shiro rolls his eyes, copying Keith’s action.

“Well, I know how to brush my hair.”

“I brush my hair all the time!”

“… Are you sure?”

Keith huffs in annoyance, crossing his arms. “I can’t help it, I have a lot of hair.”

“Why don’t you get some of it cut?” Shiro suggests. While he enjoys Keith’s long hair, he found the thought of Keith with shorter hair oddly compelling and, well, he’d already realized _some_ of his feelings today, why not add more to the mix?

The scandalized look Keith throws at him shows how highly he thought of that idea.

“I would never. I look _awful_ with short hair, you wouldn’t even want to be friends with me after a haircut,” Keith said and wow, dramatic much? Shiro quirked a brow at him and picked up another donut from the box.

“I don’t know, I bet you’d look cute.” _Ah shit, jumping right in._ Shiro casts his gaze to the side, trying to make the comment seem like a throw away by not putting more action into it.

He glances up seconds later and sees Keith transfixed on his donut, tips of his ears burning a bright red.

Shiro thinks that’s pretty cute, too.

xxx

Taking Keith to the fair had seemed like a good idea in hindsight, but in practice…

Shiro just wants to _sit down._

He deals with rushing from one fair ride to the next though, knows that he’d promised this weekend to Keith and if this is what Keith enjoys, then he’ll put up with it. The faces Keith makes when the rides start is something he swears he’ll never forget, the look of pure relaxation and happiness that Shiro wishes would never leave his face the best going away gift he’d ever received.

Shiro buys Keith cotton candy, along with other various fair foods, and takes joy in watching him poke and prod at the fluffy sugar mound. It’s endearing, being the one to introduce Keith to so many new things and gauge his reactions. Some are better than others, evident in how he easily takes to the sweets but rejects the fair nachos due to the cheese being ‘too orange’ and Shiro feels like comments like that should annoy him but they make sense when they come from Keith’s mouth.

The same goes for the rides, too. Keith’s taken to the knock off Superman ride, though refuses to get back on the Twister because of how much it reminded him of… unpleasant times. But it’s all okay because Shiro takes him to the fun house and sees the dark cloud lift from above his head and is replaced with the sun.

It’s almost nine when Keith tires from all the rides and attractions, having done most three times and watched a man shoot himself out of a canon twice. They’re walking around languidly, hands brushing with every steps until Shiro feels Keith’s fingers slowly poke at his, slotting his smaller fingers between Shiro’s. The whole situation makes Shiro’s heart beat out of his chest, especially when Keith gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and glances up through his bangs to smile at him.

It’s all too cute and all too much, Shiro decides. He leaves in less than a week and if Shiro were a greater man he’d ignore whatever he was feeling until he got back, giving him ample time to get to understand them himself before dumping them onto Keith.

Except he’s not a greater man and the warm grip around his hand only serves as a reminder of how utterly fucked he’ll be during the year away if he doesn’t tell Keith _now._

So, he does what all lesser men do.

He stalls.

“Hey, we haven’t rode the Ferris wheel yet,” he tells Keith, watching as the younger males gaze slides from his face to past his shoulder, undoubtedly staring at the brightly lit ride.

“Huh,” he starts, voice full of what Shiro pinpoints as awe, “I guess we haven’t.”

He doesn’t say more before dragging Shiro in the direction of the attraction. Shiro silently rejoices, knows that seeing the whole fair from so high up will excite Keith into talking about space, which, sadly, is much easier than discussing his feelings at this point. Go figure.

Really though, Shiro hasn’t been on a Ferris wheel since he was young and has forgotten how they work. He’d anticipated going around three or four times before getting to step off and have them call it a night, but was met with more free time than he was prepared for when he realized they had to start and stop the ride to let people on and off.

It doesn’t seem to bother Keith though, seeing him practically buzzing it excitement next to him. The line was inching forward slowly but they’d gotten a pretty good spot, meaning they were seated halfway through the filling up process.

When the cart was about halfway from the top, Keith turns away from ogling the fair grounds to point Shiro with a serious look. “We need to talk.”

“W-what?” Shiro asks in mild surprise from how the atmosphere around Keith had managed to go from serene to serious with a flick of his hair. “About what?”

“About us,” Keith says, leaning forward into Shiro’s space.

“Keith, we don’t have to talk about that right now-,” Shiro tries to reason, stopping when Keith shuts his eyes. “Keith,” he continues softly.

“We need to talk about this before you leave,” he says, reopening his eyes. “Whatever _this_ is,” he mutters, and Shiro assumes it’s mostly for himself.

Shiro reaches across the distance of the cart to grab one of Keith’s hands, lacing their fingers together.

“What do you want _this_ to be?” he asks, matching Keith’s gaze with one of leveling intensity. His thumb glides over the back of Keith’s as he watches his gaze flicker with uncertainty, sliver of his wall crumbling to show his vulnerability.

“I’ve never…” he starts, ducking his head. Shiro watches as his ears start to glow a pitiful red. “I just- argh!” He uses his free hand to tug at the front of his bangs in agitation before Shiro uses his other hand to stop him, untangling his fingers from soft black strands. He shifts closer in his seat as he drops Keith’s hand, using his free hand to lift Keith’s chin.

The sight of him nearly tears Shiro’s heart in two. His eyes are glassy and his teeth are biting into his bottom lip, cheeks pink with what appears to be a mixture of agitation and embarrassment. Shiro’s hand slides from Keith’s chin to his cheeks, thumb resting just below his eye so he can wipe the stray tear that falls from it.

“Keith,” he says, not sure if the softness of his voice can be heard over the still bustling fair under them, “What do you want?”

“ _You,_ ” he snaps, hand coming up to encircle Shiro’s wrist. “I just… want _you,_ and I _know_ that I’m a little late in confessing. I’m sorry for being late, and I’m sorry for being a bother and always being quick to anger, I don’t know _why_ I’m like _that,_ but you make me feel like it’s okay. You make me feel like I’m not crazy,” he says, words rushed and filled with emotion. Shiro feels his heart clench in his chest and he’s pulling Keith towards him before he’s even registered it, cradling him against his body.

“You’re not crazy, Keith,” he starts slowly, right hand carding through Keith’s hair. “Or late. Or a bother. You’re _you,_ and that’s all I want.” He whispers the last part into Keith’s hair, sealing it by pressing a soft kiss against his scalp. It takes Keith a few seconds until he lifts his head, hands balled into fists against Shiro’s chest as he looks up at him.

“You… want me?” Keith asks. His voice is full of awe and disbelief, eyebrows drawn down as he looks at Shiro through his bangs again.

“ _Yes,_ Keith,” he says, voice taking on the same rushed tone Keith’s had had minutes before. “You’re the only one I want.”

Time seems to stand still as they look at one another, Keith’s glassy eyes matching Shiro’s, lips parted slightly. It takes a few seconds for Shiro to realize Keith’s leaning in, a few more to match him, and one for their heads to angle just right so that their lips meet on the first try.

The kiss is delicate, Shiro’s smooth lips against Keith’s naturally chapped ones. Shiro can taste the lingering sugar on his lips and is met with the tantalizing thought of how sweet his mouth must be, but knows that he shouldn’t push anything on the other.

They part seconds later, both holding their breath. Keith’s face has morphed to absolute amazement and bliss, so much so that he looks more angelic than human with how the white lights around their cart frame his fame.

They don’t part for long though, rejoining in the center of the cart barely a minute after they part. Keith’s hands slide up to grasp the sides of Shiro’s face, fingers grazing over his undercut as one of Shiro’s keeps his head steady and the other reaches up to push his bangs out of his face.

The kiss is needy, Keith practically using the grip he has on Shiro to pull himself towards him. His lips move against Shiro’s skillfully, though Shiro’s more inclined to believe that kissing comes as naturally as flying for Keith before entertaining the idea of past partners.

The whole situation feels like a glimpse into Shiro’s dreams though the sensation of having Keith’s lips against his is far better than any made up illusion he was able to concoct.

Keith startles against him as a long bang shakes the park, fingers gripping against his scalps as he turns quickly towards the source. Behind them, designs made of white light fall to the ground as another shoots up, booming before the fireworks sizzle out.

“Fireworks,” Keith breathes, watching as more fly into the sky.

“How convenient,” Shiro mutters, eyes tracing their path. Keith turns back towards him with a soft snort, lips twitching up in amusement at the clichéness of the situation.

 “Very convenient,” he says, leaning into Shiro again.


End file.
